The Tutor
by Nicole Boulet
Summary: Fed up with Snape's sarcasm, Hermione issues a challenge. Finis: The wedding night.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Obviously, none of these characters are mine. The Harry Potter universe (inclusive of Hogwarts School, all recognizable characters mentioned, and all institutions, situations, events and happenings) is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and her corporate affiliates. The following work is fan fiction and is considered by the author to be a respectful parody of Ms. Rowling's work while acknowledging its derivative status. No commercial use of this work is intended nor is any revenue being made from it or any website on which it may be archived.

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Hermione stood outside of the Potion room for a full minute, quietly struggling to control her emotions. At 17, and mere weeks from graduation, she was riddled with anxiety over upcoming final N.E.W.T. exams and the thought of a future without daily contact with her friends. Add to that the recent, untimely loss of her parents (whose deaths just eighteen months ago at the hands of Voldemort had thrown her into a depressed state her friends and teachers feared she'd never rise from). The ensuing drop in her academics average had prompted Dumbledore, in his concern, to offer her additional tutoring.

The myriad of worries coupled with the beginnings of a vicious headache at the thought of the upcoming hours locked in a cold room with Professor Snape (or "that bastard" as he was more readily known) were almost more than she could manage. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she raised a hand and knocked firmly on the door.

"Enter," Snape murmured. His voice, deep with rough, velvet undertones, washed over Hermione evoking a familiar shiver of fear.

_Shake it off, you nit_, she told herself as she turned the knob and - glowering - entered the room. Crossing over to a school desk, she tossed her books in a neighboring chair and plopped down in an annoyed slump.

Sighing deeply and thinking of the things he'd trade to live a full day without encountering some form of teenage angst, Snape spoke caustically, "My time, Miss Granger, is valuable. Punctuality is not an option."

Raising her eyes to the clock on the wall, she was shocked to see it was ten minutes passed the hour. Meeting his dark gaze, she felt her response die on her lips. She'd be damned if she'd apologize.

Raising his brows, he continued in sepulchral tones, "Perhaps you'd rather repeat your last year than make use of our time?"

An angry blush crept up her face, as she said forcibly, "No! Sir!"

Taking a step towards her and leaning over, he slapped his hand on her desk and spoke curtly. "Then sit up and pay attention!"

Startled, she sat up quickly and felt her eyes fill. Dismayed, she stared dumbly at him.

"Cease your sniveling, child." He snapped. Faintly horrified by her tears, Snape turned and stalked quickly to his desk. Choosing a textbook, he opened it and spoke harshly. "If you think you can manage, Miss Granger, open your Potions textbook to Chapter 13."

Fueled by stress and emotional overload, Hermione snapped,"I'd manage far better without your constant caustic remarks!" Pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose, she muttered, "I'd rather take a beating than have to put up with your bloody sarcasm."

Severous Snape slowly lowered the textbook and took a long moment to study her. Gone was the gangly, wild-haired girl. In her place, a lean, compact, young woman with delicate features and large, amber eyes. Giving her a thoughtful look, and once more picking up the textbook, he softly said, "As you wish."

"Please open your textbook to Chapter thirteen."

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The next few hours were decidedly the most peculiar Hermione had ever spent in the seven years she'd worked with the Potions' Master. True to his word, he taught, lectured, and demonstrated complex potions in a calm, encouraging manner that left her astounded. Even her mistakes - few as they might be - failed to elicit the usual sharp criticism.

He really was a marvelous teacher when he wasn't being a cold, surly brute. Hermione felt a stab of real regret as the end of their lesson approached. If only he would show this side of himself during class. How many more would pass with a little gentleness, rather than failing miserably and crawling away to lick their wounds.

At his glance to the clock, Hermione reached down to gather up her notebook and purse.

"Have you been excused?" Snape's silky voice flowed over Hermione.

"Sir? It's nearly 11:00 pm."

Under Snape's steady gaze, she slowly lowered her books. "May I ask, Miss Granger, if you found me short with you in the last few hours?"

Feeling her heart settle somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach, Hermione answered, "No, sir."

"Was I insulting? Snide? Sarcastic." The last word was drawn out long and melodiously.

Feeling a flush crawl to her face, Hermione stammered, "N-no, sir."

"Good." Black eyes fixed steadily on hers, as he raised a leg to sit on the edge of his desk. "Come here, please."

Unconsciously drawn to her feet, she walked slowly towards him.

"You can't seriously mean to beat me?" she asked in wide-eyed disbelief.

With a derisive snort, he closed long fingers around her upper arm and pulled her closer to him. Gazing over her features, he noted that the annoying know-it-all child was growing into a lovely young woman. "In a very mild sense of the word, yes."

Hermione eyed him warily, uncertain of his intentions but certain they would not be pleasant. Staring up into his eyes, she was amazed to note they were deep, chocolaty brown (had she really thought they were black?). Meeting his dark gaze with Gryffindor courage, she lifted her chin. Then immediately felt the color drain from her face, as his eyes narrowed and he quietly murmured, "Just remember. You asked for this."

Grasping her around the waist, he easily lifted and tossed her face down across his thigh. Pressing one hand down firmly on the small of her back, he lifted her black robes and threw them above her waistline. He hesitated briefly before lifting the back of her pleated skirt and raising his flattened hand high.

Dazed at the speed at which she found herself in such an unpromising position, Hermione could only sputter when at first her robes then her skirt were lifted.

"What the …" Hermione's protest died on her lips as a sharp crack sounded accompanied by an even sharper pain across her behind. She took in a quick short breath, incredulous that he would dare strike her. This thought followed quickly by another stinging swat and then another before self-preservation had her wiggling and twisting to get free.

Strengthening his grip on her, Snape held her firmly and continued smacking her – harder now – trying not to notice the attractive scrap of lace or the lovely flesh it barely covered. He kept up his assault until he was certain every inch of her bottom reflected the pink imprint of his hand.

Pulling her garments into place, he lifted her to a standing position. As soon as Hermiones feet touched the floor, she came round with a vicious open handed swing aimed at his face. Blocking her hand before impact, swifter than she could imagine possible, he caught both wrists and twisted them behind her, securing both in one large hand before pulling her angrily struggling form flush against his own.

Watching the play of emotions warring with each other on her face; shock, pain, humiliation, fury, he felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Seeing it, Hermione spat out, "You Bastard!"

With remarkable drollness, he chided her, "You do realize, had your hand made contact, I would have had to spank you, all-over-again.!"

Gasping in indignation, she tried twisting her wrists free and soon gave up to glare mutinously at him. Head tilted she considered their position as an idea sparked. A short lift of her knee should be about right. Honing in on her intent just prior to execution, Snape shifted his weight and pressed his thigh forward to push the lower half of her body – most specifically, her knee – out of harms' way.

As his leg pressed intimately against her, Hermione felt a sharp shock of pleasure. Feeling her knees begin to weaken, she fought a totally unexpected rush of desire.

Feeling her initial jolt, Snape watched with keen interest as her pupils dilated and her eyes fell to his mouth. Noting the increasing rise and fall of her chest, he tugged her body closer, keeping her hands contained, his thigh pressed firmly to her center, nearly causing her to straddle him. Her beautiful eyes flew up to meet his in shocked awareness and heat.

Stunned by the lush invitation he saw in them, he felt a responding physical surge rush through him and froze.

Slowly releasing her wrists, he reached down and cupped her round bottom with both hands and pulled her up the length of his thigh to press her body fully against his once more. The feel of his hands branding her already burning flesh mingled with an intense gathering of sensations that left Hermione helplessly clutching his shoulders.

Swooping down, Snape placed his warm lips on the nape of her neck and felt her stiffen. He clasped her rocking body to his own and listened in mute amazement to her passionate cries.

Minutes passed before Hermione came to complete awareness in the arms of her Professor. Mortification had her pressing her forehead down to his shoulder.

Long fingers gently gripped her chin, and lifted. Snape studied her flushed face for a long moment with dark, fathomless eyes, before uttering in a deep voice, "My. My. You are full of surprises."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Hermione awoke, rubbed her eyes, and began to roll out of bed when memory hit. Falling back flat, shaky hands reached to cover her burning face as she repressed a low moan. "Oh God. Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God."

Images flitted across her mind at rapid speed, causing her breath to catch. She'd never thought of him like this before. Never sexually. Well … nothing specific. Those dark eyes and velvet voice had always increased her heart-rate, but she'd assumed her reaction was due primarily to fear. How could she see him again? Sit through his class. Continue tutoring. Impossible.

Pushing herself to the edge of the bed, she sat forward to hang her head between her knees, waiting for panic to pass. After the blood rushed to her head, clearing her thoughts, she stood and walked over to an oval mirror, raising a hand to her blush. Maybe he would surprise her by acting like a gentleman and ignoring the whole thing. Maybe she could avoid looking at him. Stop asking questions in class. Blend in with the other students who tried desperately – although usually in vain – to seem invisible.

Maybe she could just stay in bed and pretend to be sick.

But tomorrow would come and what then? Always the pragmatic one, Hermione began to dress for school. _Two more months_, she told herself. _Just two more months. I'll have graduated then, and will never have to be in his snide presence again_. Thoughts of his arms encircling her trembling body intruded. She'd never look at his mouth again without remembering the electric shock of feeling them on her neck. Ruefully, she thought she'd never watch his hands in quite the same way either. Recalling the sting, she winced. Where did he find the nerve? She must be the only student in the history of Hogwarts to have been turned over the knee of a professor. Witches rarely got physical with each other, outside of their respective bedrooms, of course.

Gathering what courage she could find, she left her dormitory and headed to the cafeteria.

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Drinking strong coffee in his bedroom, Severus ran a hand over his unshaven face and let out a long sigh. What had he been thinking? The little know-it-all had finally snapped, giving him a reason to do something he'd long wanted to. That alone could lose him his position. But her reaction. Now that was a surprise. As was his own. Looking into the mirror, he stared hard into his face. _A face only a mother could love_, he thought. _With the exception of mine. _

Why had she trembled in his arms? And climaxed the moment his lips touched her. That had shocked him to his core. Spanking her had hardly been intended as foreplay.

There was a connection here, however tenuous. They had always respected each other's minds. Now, they'd become aware of each other physically. But, she was a child! _Almost eighteen_, a voice inside his head whispered_. Almost legal_.

Almost.

And there it was. No tempting smiles, no artless invitations, or dares would move him. When she was no longer a student, perhaps he'd explore this. Now was not the time.

Determined, he turned from the vile mirror and began his day.

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As the morning crawled inevitably towards her third class, Hermione battled a curious combination of dread mingled with excitement. Would he stare knowingly into her eyes? Call on her if she refused to participate in activities? Humiliate her by telling someone?

She would die, absolutely die, if anyone knew. Of course, knowledge is a two-way street. If anyone knew of his involvement, he could lose his job. She'd just be humiliated to the end of her days.

The low mumble of students' voices fell to silence as the classroom door banged shut and the dreaded professor deftly, with swirling robes, entered the room.

Swiveling to face the class, he leaned against his desk, crossed his arms and ran his fierce gaze slowly over the students, pausing momentarily at the top of Hermione's head with her nose pressed into a book.

He repressed a snort at her cowardice. _The little twerp won't even look at me_. In a voice far warmer than his words, he spoke.

"Today's lesson will help prepare you for your upcoming final exams. Failure to successfully master this skill translates to failure in Potions, and that, to some of you will mean summer school, or … a minor degree that while allowing you to purchase supplies for the rudimentary potions, will prevent you from getting a job in any field requiring Potions' expertise."

Frowning at Longbottom hunching down in his chair in the front row, he added in a sepulcher voice, "I cannot impress upon you the importance of paying attention today."

Looking quickly up to Hermione, he strode to her desk and snatched the book from below her nose. Looking deeply into her widened eyes, Snape leaned forward and spoke softly, "You, of all people, should know the importance of paying attention."

At her telltale blush, he slammed the book back on her desk and moved to the front of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Detention. Tonight, Miss Granger."

"What?" Hermione straightened up in shock. "Excuse me?"

"I believe you heard me," he stated blandly.

The unbelievable bastard! Trying desperately to quell the emotions threatening to overcome her, she forced herself to meet his gaze and focus on the lesson.

Hermione survived the long hour, with her mind occasionally jumping ahead to imagine the upcoming detention. She wasn't sure which emotion ruled; excitement or fear. Watching him move across the front of the room, she found herself admiring his broad shoulders, remembering their width and strength under her hands_. He wouldn't be nearly as interesting looking without that hooked nose, _she thought to herself. _He moves with the grace of a cat. And those beautiful hands, so deftly skilled._ Imagining what he could do to her with them, Hermione felt her body grow warm.

Catching her dreamlike expression, Snape stopped reciting steps mid-sentence and found himself locked in her gaze. Unbidden images intruded, causing an instant physical reaction his robes thankfully hid. Shaking his head briefly, he continued instructions, frowning at Hermione.

Suddenly aware of his angry glare, she jerked and snapped out of her daydream. Feeling her heart beating in her throat, she bowed her head and continued taking notes, aware of a large gap where she'd drifted off. She'd borrow notes from Harry. His were usually decent. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she attempted to calm herself. She'd never been the type to get lost in her own fantasy world. She never understood the lure. Opening her eyes, she eyed her professor from head to foot, thinking to herself, _until now. _

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Detention ran from 8:00 – 12:00 depending on the teacher and the seriousness of the student's infraction. Walking down the long flight of stairs to the massive dungeons beneath Hogwarts, Hermione felt her courage draining quickly. Cautiously, she opened the large door and entered to room, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature.

Seated at a desk, scribbling furiously, Snape didn't bother raising his head. Pointing to a counter filled with filthy glass tubes and bottles, he said sharply, "Wash them."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed heavily and she reached for her wand.

"By hand. No magic is allowed during detention."

"What? That's absurd!"

Raising his head and leveling his dark eyes on her, he asked, "First time in detention, Miss Granger? I'm honored." Smiling unpleasantly, he continued, "It isn't suppose to be easy or quick or fun." Losing the smile, he snapped, " Now get to work."

Grinding her teeth, she stomped over to the counter and ran hot water into the sink, mumbling foul insults.

"Along with a very keen sense of smell, I have an overly developed sense of hearing. It would be wise to keep those thoughts to yourself." His voice poured over her, causing her to quiver. How he managed to sound sexy and annoying simultaneously was beyond her. She half considered refusing his request to see how he would react.

Focusing on her task, she began washing the fragile tubes, listening to his pen scratch on paper. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she tried to see if he was paying any attention to her. With his head bent and rapid pen, it would appear not.

Feeling her irritation level rise, she lifted a clean tube in the air and dangled it over the stone floor. Watching him, she casually let it drop.

At the sound of breaking glass, dark eyes flew up to meet and latch onto amber eyes. Immediately noting her lack of concern or remorse, he sat up straight in his chair and scowled at her_. She's trying to goad me_. Snatching up he wand, he flicked it once, twice, placing a broom in one of her hands and a dustpan in the other.

"Sweep that up." He commanded softly.

A battle of wills followed in the form of a 10 – 15 – 20 second staring contest, before Hermione dropped her eyes. Bending to clean up the glass she'd broken, she damned her lack of courage.

Watching for a moment, Snape suppressed a faint smile and returned to his task.

As Hermione finished each chore, Snape would demand another … always manual … always demeaning. At the last request, to sweep the floor, a good 10,000 feet of solid stone, her temper snapped.

"No, I won't!"

Raising his brows, he stood and walked around the desk to look down his nose at her.

"Pardon me?"

"I won't do another stupid chore. I'm tired. I've worked enough." Flicking her hand around the piles of cleaned, polished, organized material, "This is bit excessive, isn't it? Even for you." she added spitefully.

Glaring silently down at her, he watched her color rise in anger.

"It's because of last night, isn't it? " Her voice broke. "You're angry at me … " Tilting her head, she aimed a sharp look at him. "Or …. you're angry at yourself. And you're taking it out on me."

Bingo, Snape thought as he shut his eyes for a second. Opening them, he ran them over her delicately flushed face and fought the newfound urges her close proximity caused. Considering his next words carefully, he spoke slowly, "Hermione. You are a child. I am your teacher. Two excellent reasons why this conversation can go no further."

Bristling, Hermione poked her finger forward into his chest. "I AM NOT A CHILD. I'll be 18 in two months. At which time you will also cease to be my teacher."

Grasping her wrist and pulling the offending finger from his chest, he spoke meticulously, "Then perhaps we can continue this discussion in two months. But not … before … then."

Laughing, Hermione asked incredulously. "And you're going to … what? … ignore me until June?"

He returned her gaze silently, wondering the same thing himself. Turning his nose up, he stated coldly, "I think I can quite easily manage."

Stung by his comment, she glared up at him and whispered, heatedly, "We'll see about that." Snatching her wrist free, she added, "I can always seduce you."

Amazed at her gall, he sent her a severe look. "I would suggest you control yourself."

Stepping closely up to him, she whispered suggestively, "And if I don't?"

Gripping her firmly by the shoulders and pushing her arms length away, he growled warningly, "Hermione."

Reaching to the top of her black robe, she began lowering the zipper, keeping her eyes locked onto his.

Eyes widening slightly, he reached for his wand and pointed it to her robe, furiously muttering.

Tugging at the zipper, Hermione could make it go neither up nor down. It was stuck. Stomping her foot, she spat out, "Damn-it."

At his satisfied smirk, she rushed forward and pressed herself against him, reaching and locking her hands around the back of his neck. Capturing his lips in hers, she used her scant knowledge of kissing to try to evoke a reaction from him.

Severus stood frozen and refused to return her advances, attempting with supreme effort to quell with raging urges that threatened to overcome him at the feel of her soft breasts pressed against him and her innocent kisses.

Pressed closely to his form, it took a moment for Hermione to realize he had frozen up like a statue. Dropping down, she stepped back, panting heavily. She refused to believe his lack of interest was sincere. Intending on trying one more time, she froze at his words, spoken in a tone dripping with sarcasm, "How charming. I sincerely hope I can contain myself."

Firmly gripping her arms, he turned her around to face the door. "Detention is over, child. Now, go to bed."

Wrenching free, she swiveled and sputtered in frustration, "I ought to slap you."

Eyes glittering dangerously, he said in low, soft voice, "Try it and see what happens."

Feeling what little of her courage remained plummet, she let out a small whimper and ran for the door. Turning, she softly called back in a high-pitched voice, "I hate you!" before escaping into the hall and up the stairs.

Closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten, Severus fought to get his emotions under control. Better she believe him a cold bastard than suspect the unthinkable attraction he now battled. _She hated him_. Snorting derisively, he thought to himself, _who didn't?_

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Climbing into her bed and burrowing under the covers, Hermione lay shaking with frustration. She didn't believe for one minute that he was immune to her. She relived the moment of feeling his lips on her neck and felt a corresponding physical thrill. That hadn't been the reaction of a cold, scholar.

Known for her tenaciousness, Hermione began imagining different scenarios and his possible reaction to each. One particular plan caused her to blush in the dark. Would she have the nerve? It would take something extreme to get past his defenses. Planning out her steps, she committed herself to the task.

Tomorrow night. We'll see how he 'contains' himself then, she thought. And, still blushing, snuggled down to sleep.

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The following day, both managed to ignore each other during Potions class. As the evening rolled around, Severus sighed in relief_. Ah, the resilience of youth. Already over her little crush_. Perhaps now he could drive the erotic images that had plagued his dreams from his head, and focus on more important matters.

Entering his chambers, he shut and locked his door. Unbuttoning his robes, he headed towards the fireplace mantle to uncork and pour a measure of brandy into a snifter. Tossing the heavy robe to a chair, he tilted the glass and let the liquid warm his throat.

"Good evening, Professor."


	3. Chapter 3

"Good evening, Professor."

Sputtering, he set the glass down sharply and whirled towards his bed. There, under the comforter with her glossy head full of curls splayed out over a pillow, lay Hermione smiling sweetly at him.

Stalking over to the bed, he roared, "Get out of my bed this instant!"

Grabbing the corner of the comforter, he yanked it back and froze, feeling his mouth drop open. With the exception of the carefully applied eye makeup, Hermione lay naked as the day she was born.

Battling instant lust and anger, Severus grabbed the top sheet and threw it back over Hermione. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he spoke in a low, pained voice. "Up. Out. Now!"

Sitting up slowly, with her eyes on his upturned face, she put her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, letting the sheet fall from her. She let her eyes rove over his body and felt her mouth watering at the sight of his broad shoulders and narrow waist. _My goodness, what he's been hiding beneath that robe_! Walking up to press boldly against him, she pulled his head down to force his gaze on her.

"Still immune to my charms?" she asked huskily.

Gritting his teeth, he shut his eyes, and growled, "I'm giving you one last warning. Get dressed and leave!"

Melting her body into his, she clearly felt his response against her belly and her heart rate doubled. Reaching up to plant a soft kiss on his jaw line, she purred into his ear, "Or you'll do what? Spank me?"

Lowering his head, he gazed down at her nakedness with a dark intensity, eventually raising his eyes to hers. The long silence very nearly unnerved her. Taking slow, measured steps forward, he backed her into the wall, resting one hand on each side of her head. With a voice of rough silk, he rasped "You have no idea what you're playing with."

Swallowing hard, Hermione felt her knees weaken. Reaching her hands around his back, she reached up and drew her nails down his back, feeling his shivering response. "Maybe you can teach me," she said in a shaky voice.

It was the tremor that caused him to snap. Swiftly grabbing her arms, he raised them above her head, clasping her slender wrists in one large hand. Pressing the lower half of his body sharply against hers, he roughly ran his hand over the smooth contours of her hip, waist and full breast, keeping his intense gaze locked on her face. Thumbing her nipple, he took advantage of her indrawn breath by tilting his head to thrust his tongue into her mouth, closing his mouth hotly over her own. Feeling her muscles turn liquid, Hermione stepped on tiptoe to press back against him. Being held naked in the arms of a fully dressed man added a sharp edge to the already erotic.

At the sound of her low moan, Snape jerked back, and breathing heavily, backed away from her with dark, furious eyes. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he pivoted and stalked over to the fireplace, tossing down the rest of his drink in one shot. Feeling like a complete pervert, he uttered, "Forgive me. I forgot myself."

Stepping forward, Hermione started to protest. Halting her words with a raised hand, he spoke, "It won't happen again."

Frustrated by the turn of events - her body felt like one throbbing nerve - Hermione strode over to him and shoved her hands against his chest. "You want to bet?"

Catching her wrists once more, he snapped at her, "Until you're of legal age, you are a child. It would behoove you to act like one. I certainly plan on treating you like one."

"Meaning?" she growled.

"Meaning … the next time you attempt to throw yourself at me, you'll find yourself over my knee so fast your head will spin. And this time, I won't be gentle."

Crying out in frustrated rage, she raised a foot and brought her heel down on his instep, pulling her wrists at the same time. Grunting in shocked pain, he held onto her wrists in a deathlike grip, amazed at her temerity.

Limping and dragging her towards the bed, he ground out between clenched teeth, "Fine! Have it your way."

Sitting on the corner of the bed, he tossed her squirming and kicking, over his lap. Pressing one hand firmly on the small of her back, and shifting his thigh to place her in the best position for attack, he raised his hand and brought it back down on her naked buttocks in a tremendous smack, perversely pleased at her cry of outrage. Putting more strength into each swat than he had on the previous occasion, he spanked her fast and furiously, tunneling his sexual frustration into each powerful swat. He stopped only when he became aware of her helpless sobbing, noting the extreme redness of her abused backside.

Lifting her to curl up crying on the bed, he strode over to grab his robe where it lay, and draped it over her naked form. Wrapping her in its folds, he picked her up in his arms, awkwardly tossed powder into the fireplace with a short command, and stepped inside with his burden.

Exiting the fireplace in Hermione's room, he placed her in her own bed, covering her before spinning to make his exit. With her quiet sobs echoing in his ear, he returned to his room, and cursing foully, walked over to punch his fist into his chest of drawers, knocking the contents along the top onto the ground.

He needed advise. He needed to speak to Dumbledore.


	4. Chapter 4

The next afternoon - a quiet Saturday - found Severus Snape in Albus Dumbledore's office, slumped in a low chair with his long legs extended, and thoughtfully tenting his hands as he searched for the words.

"How long have we known each other, Severus?" Dumbledore asked in his curiously rough, gentle voice.

"Too long?" Snape offered a small smile.

"It's not like you to hesitate speaking your mind. On any subject. You have my avid curiosity."

Moaning lightly, Snape ran a hand over his face and tenting his fingers once more, looked at the ceiling and spoke.

"I'm having a bit of a problem with a student, who seems to have …" pausing as faint color entered his pale features, Snape continued with difficulty, "developed a crush on me."

Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly. "Surely, this isn't the first time this sort of thing has come up."

Lowering his eyes to meet his old mentors', he stated flatly, "I found her, naked, in my bed last night."

Color flooded the headmaster's face. "Oh dear. I mean …. Oh my.' Momentarily at a loss for words, Dumbledore shook his head. "What a very forward child. What on earth did you do?"

Feeling his mouth dry up, Snape faltered for a moment, causing Dumbledore to intercede, "Severus! What did you do?"

"I kissed her. I bloody kissed her. Alright?" Glaring at the headmaster, "You try having a nubile 17 year old literally throw herself at you stark naked."

The lengthy silence was broken when Snape added in a low voice, "I may have touched her breast."

After a beat, Dumbledore asked, "Is that all?"

"Yes, damnit. I immediately apologized, and told her it would never happen again."

"Sexual relations with a minor, in both the Wizard and Muggle world is a very serious offense, Severus. At the very least, it would lose you your position here." Dumbledore sat thoughtfully eyeing Snape. "May I ask, who she is?"

Closing his eyes, he quietly said, "Hermione Granger."

After a moment of silence, he opened his eyes to find Dumbledore looking at him speculatively.

"Odd as this may seem, Severus, I've always had a notion that you two would eventually come together." Pausing to pop a lemon drop in his mouth, he added wryly, "I'd assumed you would both be adults, of course."

Snape sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and spoke heavily. "I'm not going to ask where you got that idea, but I do need to ask you … do you think it wise that I continue tutoring her?" Grimacing, he said, "Things tend to get rather heated when we're alone together."

"Are you saying you can't control a little snippet of a girl, Severus?" Dumbledore chided him, and then held his hands up at the fierce scowl he received. "All right. All right. You may have a point."

Looking up thoughtfully, he spoke slowly, "Perhaps if you're lessons included another student, it would prevent further … occurrences? Why don't we add another needy student to your group? I'll assume you can manage a spell to keep her away from your sleeping quarters."

Nodding his head in agreement, Snape said, heavily, "I suppose that would do it." Standing, he added, "Although, she is incredibly tenacious."

Striding towards the door, he froze at the door at Dumbledore's parting comment.

"If she manages to corner you, perhaps you could just turn her over your knee."

Refusing to turn around, he stood still for a moment before continuing out, shutting the door forcibly. That damn man knew everything.

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At the other end of the school, deep in the cloistering recesses of her favorite spot on earth, Hogwarts library, Hermione stood high upon a rolling ladder, illuminating with a flick of her wand each ancient title. It was here, somewhere. She knew it. The records showed it hadn't been loaned out in over 20 years. Inch by inch, she moved down the shelf. Lifting a heavy volume down, and blowing off decades of dust, Hermione read the title and let out a stifled, "Aha!"

Pressing it to her chest, she backed carefully down the ladder and carried the precious book back to a far corner table. Flipping the book open to its index, she bent over the table, leaned on her elbows, and began searching for the spell she knew was hidden in the antiquated text.

Thirty minutes later, she stood to stretch the kink that had formed in her back, and acknowledge to herself that the search would take some diligence. Spells of this nature were often hidden in subtleties to both avoid offending innocent eyes and keep the knowledge contained to the few who would search for it. She'd only become aware of it through an incidence of accidental eavesdropping. Two female Professors had chosen the restricted section of library to have a private tête-à-tête, unaware of the presence of a third, pressed flat into the shadows of the adjoining bookcases and holding her breath. (Hermione believed the entire library was hers to peruse. Completely aware of the rules regarding the restricted section, she blithely chose to ignore them.)

The conversation seemed to center on a rare nocturnal spell that sounded suspiciously like Muggle astro-traveling. Drinking the carefully brewed potion approximately one hour before its effects would kick in, you were to lie flat on your bed and think solely of the person who haunted your dreams. Assuming the other person was thinking of you – at that same precise time – the spell would cast you, bodily, into the room with them. Bodily, but not physically, or rather, not to the bare eye. You could touch, feel and be felt, but not seen. The spell turned you into a bit of an apparition. Depending on your weight and age, the magic would wear off and send you, spinning, back to your origins somewhere around the two-hour mark.

That morning, Hermione had woken, disoriented, and disheartened, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he desired her ... and only too well that he would not step outside the borders of decency that tied him. Reaching back to surreptitiously rub her still tender, but remarkably un-bruised, posterior, she vowed that she'd read through the book word by word all weekend long, if necessary, until she found the spell. And when she did … well … watch out Professor Snape. He couldn't very well push away a _dream_, could he? Keeping her imagination in check, she bent over the large text once more with the focused determination of frustrated desire.

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Hours later, Hermione pressed two handfuls of cold water to her face. Her eyes ached, but her heart rejoiced. She'd found it, and after painstakingly copying down the cramped six and a half pages of instructions, and double and triple checking it for accuracy, had managed to finally leave the library. Standing up to grin at her reflection in the mirror, she tried imagining his reaction tonight, for she fully planned on an immediate attack. Shutting her eyes, she remembered the feel of his body pressed against hers, slender but firm. The memory of the wiry strength of his muscles under her hands caused her breath to hitch. His voice ….lord, that voice alone made her melt … and his eyes. She could get lost staring into his dark, compelling eyes.

The door to the loo swung open as Ginny Weasley skipped in.

"Hello there, 'Mione!" Reaching over to give her a quick side-hug, she smiled broadly and asked, ""How's your love life?"

Since Hermione was known as a bit of a hermit and evidently above such base, physical things, Ginny loved to ask the same question and watch her friends's annoyed rolling eyes. "Mine's a bit slow at the moment."

Reaching into her purse to lean forward and carefully reapply her lipstick, she started at her friends reply.

"Actually, it's not bad."

"Wotttttttttttttttttt?" Turning enormous green eyes, she gave her friend a delighted grin.

"It's actually more of a crush."

"Who? Who? Who? Who?" Jumping up and down, Ginny could barely contain herself.

Pressing on one shoulder, Hermione laughed. "Calm down. It's a teacher. It's mostly one-sided. And I'd rather not say who right now."

"Oh come on. You can tell me. Who hasn't had a crush on a teacher." Leaning forward, "I used to have a thing for Professor Lupin. I kept imagining what an animal he would be in the bedroom."

"Ginny!" Hermione choked on a laugh.

"Oh .. and you'll never believe this one, but …" turning her head both ways to make sure they were alone, she whispered, "Professor Snape."

"Really?" Hermione raised her brows.

"I don't know if it's his voice or his eyes, but I had a big thing for him last year."

"All over it now, I hope?"

"I suppose so. I finally decided his tongue was a bit too sharp to my liking. Don't get me wrong. I'd still do him." Giving Hermione a wicked grin, she popped a piece of gum in her mouth, and chewing, added, "I'd just have to gag, and probably tie him up, first."

"Ginny!" Hermione gave a sharp bark of laughter, "I can understand the gag, but why tie him up?"

"So he wouldn't remove the gag, of course." Joining in her laughter, they both broke up with the mental image.

"No blindfolds?" Hermione asked when she could catch her breath.

"No. I'd want to watch those dark eyes." Snapping her gum, she leaned forward. "Watch them spin up in his head."

Hermione grabbed her stomach, laughing harder. Leaning against the tiled washroom wall, she attempted to get her giggles under control.

"Ginny Weasley! I am stunned and amazed. And … a bit curious." Tilting her head, she asked, "What exactly would you do to him to make his eyes roll up?"

With a rakish grin, Ginny proceeded to tell Hermione precisely what she would do.

It turned out to be quite an education.

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Thirty luminous minutes later, the girls left the washroom, both still stifling their mirth. Hermione felt slightly awestruck. She certainly knew who to turn to with questions about sex. Agreeing to meet for the evening meal, her and Ginny parted company, each wearing wicked smiles.

Playing what she had decided as her first plan of attack through her mind, Hermione ran quickly down a back staircase, skipping steps at breakneck speed and ran smack into what felt to be a dark padded wall.

Walking slowly up the steps, deep in thought, Severus was caught off guard - and off balance - as he was struck head on by a flying Hermione. The force of momentum, more than weight, propelled him down three steps and against the cold stone of the wall. Gripping her powerfully by the upper arms, he shifted his shoulders away from the wall and rotated his head, trying to gain both his balance and thoughts. With pain – the back of his head and shoulders throbbed like hell - came clarity, and he realized the bundle he was holding had had the air knocked from her lungs and was currently struggling for breath.

Scowling fiercely, he shook her until he heard her breath return on a sob.

"Ssssssstop it! Stop! It!" Rattled and dizzy, she stared up at him wide-eyed, and tried to remember how to breathe. Descending all at once – the memory of last night, her and Ginny's conversation, his nearness - she found herself fighting back a blush she felt certain covered her entire body.

"Miss Granger," he ground out in a deceptively soft, low voice, "That was rather careless of you."

Desire licked over her. She felt a scorching heat where ever their bodies touched. "I know, sir. I'm sorry."

When she began to tremble, he bit back a groan, and thrust her arms length away from him.

"Try to be more careful." He snapped, thin lipped, and releasing her, walked around and up the stairs, stomping and muttering with each footstep.

Turning to lean against the wall and watch and listen to his escape, Hermione fought to get herself under control. Dear Lord, she couldn't be near him without nearly swooning. _So this is what lust feels like._ No one had ever told her it would be like this. _It's nearly overpowering, _she thought.

Thinking with a racing heart of the evening ahead, she pushed herself away from the wall, running the list of ingredients needed for her special brew through her head.

Opening the corridor door, she looked up the staircase once more, and whispered, "Until tonight, Professor."


	5. Chapter 5

Day slipped swiftly into night, and at a time most of Hogwards occupants were sleeping, Hermione was just rising from a tepid bath of fragrant water. Unpinning her long hair, she let it fall and stood in front of a full-length mirror. Assessing her body, she wondered briefly why men were fascinated with breasts. Hers were generous, but like every other part of her body, simply _there._ Wondering what it would feel like to have his hands skimming over her naked skin, she slowly picked up a small bottle of perfumed lotion, tilted it into her hand and began rubbing into her flesh, wanting every area he touched to feel like silk. She imagined the hours ahead, and pressed a flattened hand on her stomach in an attempt to quell jittery nerves. She'd heard stories. About the pain. The blood. The first time was supposed to be completely awful.

Then there was Ginny, who'd shrugged and said she'd hardly noticed any discomfort. Well … it would only be this once. Then it would change. Thinking of his dark gaze, she shivered and bit her lip.

It had taken her six straight hours to collect ingredients and carefully brew the potion. She wouldn't back down now.

Lifting the small glass of pale, silver liquid from her bedside table, she raised it to her reflection.

"Cheers!" Tipping her head back, she swallowed, grimacing slightly before setting the glass down again. Double-checking the lock on her door, she walked purposely to the bed and climbed beneath the covers.

With thoughts of the man who'd haunted her thoughts,both waking and sleeping, washing over her, she shut her eyes.

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In his room, Severus Snape lay sleeping flat on his back and snoring gently. His sheets were scrambled and kicked out, signaling a restless night, but now his breathing was deep and even.

At the foot of his bed, the air turned cool and shimmered faintly before fading. Softly breathing, Hermione stood looking down at Severus, hardly believing she was really there. Looking down, she froze. Her body! She could see her own body. If she could, couldn't he? Running lightly over to the mirror above his dresser, she breathed a sigh of relief when, standing directly in front of it, she saw no reflection. Waiving her hand a few times in front of her face, she suppressed a laugh of delight.

Pivoting, she walked over to look down on him. Dark brows and long lashes, that lovely hooked nose, lips fuller than she remembered, not pressed into a thin line of annoyance. His face, in repose, held a trace of beauty that nearly took her breath away. She could stand here looking at him all night.

Pulling back his covers, she smiled at the black satin PJ bottoms, sans top. His bare chest seemed to glow in the pale moonlight. Remembering Ginny's words in the washroom, she felt her eyes drawn down. Reach out to softly tug at the elastic waist line, she pulled them carefully and intricately down and off. Standing, mouth agape, at the foot of the bed, she looked on in helpless fascination. She'd seen the naked body in books before, but it was something else to behold in reality.

Seeing his state of arousal, she smiled. "Thinking of me?"

She leaned forward for a better look, and whispered again, "You must be. Else I wouldn't be here."

Letting her eyes roam over him hungrily, she bent down and picked up the silk pajamas and padded softly to his pillow. Slowly, she clasped one wrist and rested it above his head, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd awaken. Carefully, picking up his other hand, she bent his arm and rested the hand crosswise on his other wrist. Using the silken PJ bottoms as a long scarf, she wrapped it several times, lightly, around each wrist, before lifting the ends up and forming a slipknot around the bedpost. Grinning, she backed off. Apart from a slight moan, he hadn't moved.

Resting her knee on the bed, she climbed up and straddling him, pressed her lips softly against his. A deep sigh escaped him as her lips moved against his. Lightly pressing with the tip of her tongue, she opened his mouth and began a slow exploration, feeling a thrill as he returned the deep kiss. Twisting, his brow creased when he couldn't find his arms.

Pulling back and pressing her finger to his lips, she shushed him, and leaned to trail warm, wet kisses down his throat and chest, running her hands freely over his body. Reaching his stomach, she heard his deep groan and smiled. Tilting her head down, she put Ginny's advise to the test.

Deep in sleep, Severus felt his body roaring to life. She was there. Just out of his reach. Teasing him. Taunting him. Touching him. Groaning deliriously, he strained again the invisible ties that bound him and called her name.

The sounds coming from him made her almost giddy with power. She was making him feel this way. It was almost impossible to believe. Delighted at the curious blend of silk and steel in her hand, she wondered breathlessly what it would feel like pressing inside her. At the sound of her name, spoken in a deep, almost tortuous murmur, she decided it was time.

Kneeling above him, she lowered herself slowly around him, pausing when the sensation of being impaled overwhelmed her. Thrusting up sharply, Severus closed the gap, and deaf to her cry of surprise and pain, began moving in and out of her in a forceful, pumping motion, straining at the silk that tied him.

Holding herself rigidly, Hermione waited for the pain to pass. Too stunned to move off of him, she tried relaxing her muscles, hoping less resistance would help. Feeling him stiffen, she listened to his hoarse cry of release, unaware of the two tracks of tears running down her face.

Slowing moving off, she rolled over into a ball, trying to keep her jagged breathing to a minimum. Dear Lord, that had hurt. She wanted ice. A cool bath. Some aspirin.

Shaking her head, she stood and calmed herself. What she needed was to leave without him knowing she'd been there.

Walking delicately over to the head of the bed, she pulled the slipknot and slowly began unraveling his hands. Looking down at his peaceful face, and the soft smile that appeared on his lips, she felt her heart trip. Next time, she thought to herself as she brushed a long section of hair from his eyes, next time will be different. Leaning over, she placed a light kiss on his lips, and reached to pull the covers up over him. Stuffing the PJ's at the foot of the bed, she smirked slightly. Let him wonder how they'd come off.

Moving quietly to the far side of the room, she leaned against the door, and watching him sleep, waited for the spell to send her back to her room.

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He caught her eyes the moment she walked into Potions class the following morning. A brief, questioning look, before coloring slightly and looking away. Hermione hid her smile and pretended to focus on her notebook_. Embarrassed about his erotic little dream, I'll bet._

Glancing at her bent head, Severus felt his heart rate speed up_. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Get a hold of yourself, man._ Knowing the spell he'd put on his quarters would prevent her from entering the room, he still had the oddest feeling it had really happened. He'd had dreams of this nature before, but never had they been so … exquisite. And what the hell happened to his pants? He'd woken to find them stuffed at the foot of his bed. Did he strip in his sleep? What a lovely habit he'd developed. Sighing, and forcibly pushing the memory away, he stood to begin the lesson with his own unique blend of bullying and humiliation. Perhaps at least one of the rooms' restless occupants would learn something.

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The following night, at an indecent hour, a twinkle of silver sparkled then faded in the Potions Master's bedroom. The curtains were open to the evening sky, where a luminous moon glowed brilliantly, and stars too numerous to count flickered. The quiet lump in the bed made no noise, giving the intruder pause. Was he asleep? Was he awake? If he became aware of her presence when he was awake, he would know it wasn't a dream.

Creeping slowly up to his form, she bent her head low over his and listened. Soft, even breathing. Not a flicker of eyelash. Not a twitch of hand.

Satisfied, she lifted the covers and slid quietly into the bed with him, rolling to her side and moving to press the length of her body against his. Raising one hand, she ran it over his smooth chest and belly. She sat up to lean on one elbow, and place her lips softly on his. Letting her hand skim lightly over his body, she reveled in the feel and texture of him. When she reached the elastic waist of his bottoms, she inched her fingers under the band, and slowly let her hand find its objective. Clasping him firmly and moving her hand in a gentle exploration, she deepened her kiss, teasing the recesses of his mouth with her quick, darting tongue.

Feeling the nearly forgotten hunger begin to grow in the pit of his belly, from deep sleep, Severus reached up to clasp the back of her head with one hand and without a struggle, took control of the kiss with a mastery that left her heart racing. Sucking gently on her lower lip, he bit it lightly, and groaning, reached to move her busy hand away from him. Pulling her on top of him, he moved his hands roughly from the nape of her neck to the back of her knees, stopping to squeeze and knead areas of interest. Grabbing her around the waist, he lifted her higher to clasp one firm breast and then the other, hungrily kissing each one thoroughly, running his tongue roughly over each taut peak.

He could feel her heartbeat. He could smell her arousal. Rolling over her, he returned his hot mouth to her gasping lips, and reached down to stroke her with a light, teasing touch. Hearing her soft moans, he increased pressure, and crooked one long finger inside of her, searching and pressing against a soft spot. With rotating thumb, and curious fingers, he took her to the edge, and over, catching her keening, breathless cry in his mouth. Her passionate moans sent his control spinning. Senses heightened, Hermione felt him roughly grasp her hips and lift them, piercing her with his still-shocking fullness. Only now, she felt no pain. Just a roaring, rush of feelings. A battering of senses. Moving with him, she felt herself rising once more, and raking her nails over his back, took him with her, shuddering and gasping, into the flames.

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Back in her room, Hermione lay in her bed, trying to regain her normal breathing pattern. Laughing, she threw both hands over her face, and kicked her feet. She felt light. Giddy. Energized. Standing up, she strode to the mirror to look closely at her face. Had she changed? Did she look different? Losing her virginity had been a shock, certainly. But this, this exquisite and nearly excruciating pleasure, had stunned her. No wonder Ginny went on so about it. What had she been missing out on?

And, was it just the act? Or was it the man? Perhaps both. Perhaps with Ron, it would have been different. The feeling of touch without breathless excitement. A kiss without increased heart rate. Seven and half more weeks, she thought.

Perhaps they would go swifter than she thought. Than either of them thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Stepping lightly from his shower the following morning, Severus grabbed a towel and began drying off. He'd never slept better. He felt positively _energized_.

Switching the towel to his back, he proceeded to pull it across his shoulders and froze. Frowning, he ran a quick hand over the fogged mirror and turned to look at himself over one shoulder. There, faded slightly but still quite clear, were two sets of six-inch scratches, running at a vertical slant across his back.

Images began flashing through his mind; images both mysterious and erotic. Shutting his eyes, and running a tongue over his lower lip, he could almost taste her. He leaned forward and looked deeply into his eyes as his frown turned into an angry scowl. These were no dreams. It was real! He knew it! Damn it all, he knew it!

How was she doing it? How did she get in? Had she really been here? Concentrating hard, he realized he had no memory of looking at her. Of actually seeing her. Any type of invisibility cloak would have been pulled off in the tussle. And his spell would have prevented her from entering his room. So, it couldn't have been Hermione, could it? Someone else, then. But … here he faltered … he knew her kiss. He'd felt her lips on his twice before. Although, the Hermione of his nights had grown experienced because hers had been the kiss of an enchantress.

Feeling a cold sweat break across his skin, Snape shivered and roughly finished drying off. Someone, some powerful wizard, had put a spell on him. Reaching back to touch his back, he shook his head in disbelief. A spell that was causing his innermost fantasy to come to life.

Now what wizard did he know powerful enough to pull a trick like that? Throwing on his robes, and snatching his wand up, he marched to his door and jerked it open, growling, "Albus-bloody-Dumbledore!"

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Hermione stood outside of Dumbledore's office, trying to compose her features into a look of bland innocence and waiting desperately for the butterflies flitting around her stomach to settle down. How could he know? He couldn't, could he? It must be something else.

The door swung open of its own accord. "Miss Granger, please come in."

Looking into his benevolent face, knowing the vast knowledge and wile it hid, she felt her courage falter.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

Pointing to a chair, he spoke lightly, "Have a seat, please." He leaned back in his chair and pinned her with a level look. "I had the most curious visit from Professor Snape this morning."

Swallowing, Hermione lifted her chin and looked straight back at him. "Did you, sir."

Faint humor entered his eyes, as he returned her gaze. "He seems to think I put a rather improper spell on him. " Pausing for a long moment, he continued, "I thought perhaps you might know something about that."

Forcing a frown of confusion, Hermione asked, "Sir? A spell? I would never put a spell on a teacher." She shot him a look of wide-eyed innocence. "That could get me expelled!"

Tilting his head to hide his smile at her poor acting, he moved papers around on his desk. "Hermione, many of your escapades over the last seven years could have gotten you expelled." Raising his eyes, he added, "Had they not been intended for the greater good."

He calmly asked her once again, "Are you telling me you have no knowledge of a spell on Professor Snape?"

Releasing a quiet sigh, she answered honestly, "Yes, sir. I've heard of no such spell on Professor Snape."

They held a long look; his probing, hers composed.

"I see." He continued looking at her, impressed by the fact that could face him without squirming. _My, my. The child is growing up._ Suppressing another smile at her nerve, he briskly changed the subject.

"On another note, there will be another student joining your tutoring sessions."

Hermione simply raised her brows in query.

"I think you'll know him." Looking down at his desk once, more, he dismissed her.

As the door opened for her, she was stopped by his parting comment.

"Be careful, Hermione. Playing with fire …"

Unable to turn around, she murmured, "Yes, sir. I'll keep it in mind."

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Severus Snape's discomfiture during Potions class that day was almost palpable. Hermione pasted a look of utter blandness on her features and sat through the hour, secretly delighted that she'd managed to unsettle him. A remarkable feat, indeed.

Smiling to herself, she patted the book in her purse Ginny had loaned her. The Karma Sutra. Hermione was nothing if not thorough. And thoroughness took knowledge. She would have hours to study before night fell. And this was a self-course she planned to master.

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Lying flat on his bed, and breathing evenly, Severus listened to the storm brewing outside of the castle. The winds roared fiercely, sounding as if they alone had the power to lift Hogwarts and toss it effortlessly onto another continent.

The Alert potion he'd swallowed mere minutes before sent a buzzing feeling through his nervous system. With an effort, he held his energy in check. He would know this night if she was a dream – a very real dream – or something else.

He couldn't think, couldn't function during the day with thoughts of her skipping through his consciousness. Her silken skin. Her long, luxurious hair. His fingers twitched at the memory of running his hands over her body. Dear Lord, it had been so long. So long since he'd held a willing woman. Could it be the thoughts of this young woman that had filled his head for the past week were somehow conjuring up his night siren? Albus assured him he'd had nothing to do with the nocturnal visits.

With his thoughts turned to the corporeal, perhaps his craving hunger had manifested itself without his awareness. Was he, like Pygmalion, bringing his ideal to life?

Feeling an impatient yearning course through his veins, he settled back to wait for his Galatea.

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At first, she felt nothing, then a tickle of cool air, followed by a rush of wind that stopped abruptly when she saw her surroundings change. Breathing lightly, she stepped to the bed and climbed beneath the covers, inching her way closer to him.

Laying perfectly still, he felt her soft lips glance briefly off of his before moving to latch onto his neck. Her moist tongue made lazy trails from below his ear to his shoulder, causing him to break out in goose-bumps. Reaching up, she placed one hand behind his head and returned to his mouth, letting her other hand roam, trailing nails lightly, while she kissed him deeply, waiting to hear the groan that told her he'd risen to join her from his dreams.

Feeling his body respond against his intentions, he snapped open his eyes, and focused dazedly on the ceiling. He was kissing … air? He could feel her body pressed against him. Her exploring hand, and lightly raking nails, sent very real shivers through him. Reaching both arms to clasp around her, he made a thorough exploration of her body with slow, searching hands, returning her kiss with an almost scientific ardor. How in the holy hell was he holding a woman in his arms? These feelings were very real. He was absolutely awake. And she was positively squirming in his arms.

With one hand grasping the top of one smooth thigh, he suddenly reached up to give a vicious pinch to the firm roundness above it.

"Ow!" Drawing back, Hermione found herself looking into the slightly unfocused but smoldering gaze of her professor.

"Hermione Granger." His low, silken voice growling her name sent delightful shivers through her. Biting her tongue, she furiously tossed possible responses through her head. None seemed appropriate.

He began tapping one long finger on the area he'd pinched, reminding Hermione of an annoyed cat thumping its tail.

"Refusing to talk?" Tossing back the covers, he brought his hand down sharply on her rear end, listening intently to her surprised yelp. Holding her to him, he rolled her over, and held both wrists immediately above her head, keeping his eyes open despite the disorienting feeling of floating slightly above the bed. "I knew it! I knew it was you!" Speaking with clipped precision, he demanded, "Tell me how you're doing this!"

Still more aroused than alarmed, Hermione reached up to nip at his bottom lip. "How do you know it's not a dream?"

The whispered huskiness of her voice sent a shot of lust through his system. Shutting his eyes, for sanity's sake, he moved his mouth to her left ear and whispered deeply, "Because I'm not a fool. " Parting her legs with one knee, he smoothly entered her, and began moving slowly, continuing to whisper, "And I'm far from stupid. You can't begin to imagine what I'm going to do to you when I find the truth."

Hearing his softly, murmured threats in a voice of raw silk nearly sent Hermione over the edge. Pressing his hot mouth on the side of her neck, he began sucking rhythmically with the movements of their bodies, and in very short order, managed to send her completely over.

In her remaining time, they managed to completely wear each other out. She felt the faint shimmer and cold air just as he fell into an exhausted sleep. Collapsing in her own bed, she quickly joined him.

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Staring into the mirror the next morning, Hermine gave a horrified shriek.

"That son of a bitch! That bloody son of a bitch!" There, staring rudely back at her from the right side of her neck, was the largest, most hideous looking hickey she'd ever seen.

"Son of a bitch!" Knowing it was done intentionally, she grabbed up a bottle of makeup and began hiding the evidence. So he wanted to play games, did he? Oh, she'd play games alright. She'd play them so well, he'd barely manage to stand upright the next day.

And cursing roundly, she dressed for the day.


	7. Chapter 7

Severus watched his third period class file in with carefully controlled glee, to all evidence his usual brooding self with the exception of a faint glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Watching his prey slide daintily behind her desk, flipping her hair off her shoulder as she spoke to her neighbor, Severus felt a sense of gloating contentment. _Brazen child. Let's see how she bluffs her way out of this. _

Assigning a busy potions task to the class at large, he began meandering his way around the room, crisply snapping at ineffectiveness and browbeating the weak of heart.

Arriving silently behind Hermione, he leaned over her shoulder to look into the pot of developing brew, and flicking his wand wide to encompass both pot and student, murmured, "Glamour-inverta."

At the sound of his voice, Hermione jumped and collided with him. Feeling her shoulders gripped firmly, she held her breath as he turned her quickly around and focused his dark gaze on her neck.

It took every drop of willpower she possessed to repress the laughter that threatened to erupt at the look of utter perplexity on his face. Keeping her expression composed, she asked curiously, "Yes, sir?"

Raising eyes darkening with fury to hers, he held her in his grip a second longer, before silently turning and continuing his slow, sadistic exploration of the classes projects.

Hermione released a slow breath and closed her eyes, thanking the Muggles who first invented cosmetics, and the Wizard world that remained ignorant of its existence. Feeling a brief thrill of victory, she opened her eyes and caught the Potion Masters penetrating eyes drilling into hers from across the room.

What Severus recognized caused him to clench and unclench his hands at his side. Her features may be controlled, but her eyes were filled with triumph. Nodding his head imperceptively, he acceded the point.

And planned his next strategic move.

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At nine-thirty, Hermione stepped from her shower and, drying off, moved to set the alarm by her bed for 2:00 a.m. Pausing with her hand mid-air, she wondered. He'd been awake last night. Awake and waiting for her. And tonight would be no different.

"I wonder what you're doing right this minute, Professor?" she asked aloud, and walking over to her dresser, uncorked and tipped a bottle into her mouth. Swallowing the mixture with a small wince, she turned and practically skipped to her bed. "Let's find out. Shall we?"

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Severus removed his slippers, and leaned back on his bed, preparing for a nap. With his internal clock set for 1:00 am, he planned to be fully rested and alert by the time his nightly intruder made her presence known.

Shutting his eyes and exhaling deeply, he failed to notice the silvery glitter that appeared and faded at the foot of his bed.

Holding her breath, she stood, looking at his prone form settling in for the night. _Ah … so this is his plan. Refuses to be ravaged in his sleep, eh? _Walking silently across the room, she sat on a low bench, and head in hands, preceded to watch him fall deeply into sleep. After three quarters of an hour had passed, she stood and began idly searching his room for useful items. Grasping the long, soft materials in her hand, she approached him with a wicked smile.

With subtle skill, she stripped him without waking him_. Suppose I should start with his hand. Just in case he wakes up too soon._ Moving to the head of the bed, she wrapped the long winter scarf around one wrist, knotting it loosely, but not too loose, and tying the end around the far bedpost. Slowly moving her way around the bed, she managed to secure each limb firmly, but – as yet – unnoticeably to the bed.

Moving to his desk, she picked up a long feathered quill, and carried it over to his gently snoring form. Trailing the feather lightly over his bare skin, she watched him twitch in his sleep. Leaning down, she captured one flat nipple with her teeth and ran her tongue back and forth, sliding her hand down to explore and fondle him. Hearing his soft groan, she moved down to take him into her warm mouth, and began a more intimate scrutiny with a moist tongue.

Feelings overwhelmingly erotic brought him to the edge of sanity and snapped him into consciousness. Immediately alert, he struggled against the binds, helpless to prevent the waves of pleasure than rolled over him from her devout ministrations. He'd never felt so vulnerable in his life.

Lifting her head, she smiled slyly. "Awake, I see."

"Untie me this instant!" He managed in a hoarse baritone, failing to sound intimidating.

"Perhaps." Reaching down, she flicked her tongue over a sensitive area and felt him jolt. "In a little while."

Blowing cool air on him, she hummed to herself, and ignored his incensed threats. She took him again into her mouth and tantalized him, enjoying the groans and straining movements, until she felt he was once more near. Stopping suddenly, she leaned back, and studied his face, now beaded with sweat.

Reaching down, she picked up and took a sip of cold water from a glass, then placed her mouth once more over him, delighting in his jerking response. Pity, there was no ice. That's what the book suggested.

"Are you trying to torture me?" His deep whisper rolled over her skin. Slithering her body up the length of his, she kissed him deeply. Pulling back, she slapped him lightly on the cheek, and answered.

"Were you trying to mark me last night?"

In low, furious tones he replied, "You know damn well I was. Now untie me! Right! Now!"

Trailing kisses down his center, she returned to tease him once more, blithely ignoring his request, and the increasingly violent threats that followed. Coming, as they did, between gasps and groans, she felt they were more bark than bite. One particularly painful sounding promise had her snapping her head up and glaring at him. Looking around the room once more, she found a black soft cotton undershirt, and twisting it, walked over to him and placed it over his hostile mouth, tying it securely behind his head.

"Much better." Feeling only his dark eyes aimed at her, she brought him, over and over, to the edge of reason, only to pause. Sometimes momentarily, sometimes for long minutes.

After nearly an hour of teasing him mercilessly, she thought she distinctly heard a hint of desperation in his deep groans. Covered in a sheen of sweat, he strained against the ties before sagging helplessly to wait for another pass of excruciating pleasure.

Smiling at her own self-control, Hermione climbed on top of him, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Maybe you'll think twice before placing another hickey on my neck."

At his mumbling response, she untied the gag, asking, "What was that, my pet?"

"Maybe you should be more concerned with what will happen when you untie me, _little girl_." His deep voice, despite the obvious exhaustion and stress, still managed to curl her toes.

Reaching down, and firmly grasping his overly-sensitized manhood, she joined their bodies, holding him inside her tightly.

"Oooooh. Do tell." She purred and began to move slowly, only to pause as the familiar cool air began to rush by her. "Oh, noooooo!"

And abruptly, with a shimmer of silver, she evaporated into thin air, reappearing on her own bed on hands and knees.

"Oh! Hell! Oh shit! Oh Gods. He's going to kill me." Jumping from the bed, she raced over to her dresser to take another long drought of potion, and hopped back on the bed to wait for the effect. Closing her eyes, she softly spoke a mantra of "Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry up!"

Forty-five long minutes later, she shimmered back into his room. And looked, with mouth agape at the articles strewn and tossed around. It looked as if a tornado has visited in her absence. Staring at the bed, she was amazed to see him still securely tied and apparently, from his heavy breathing, resting from his last effort to free himself.

"Oh! Severus! I am so sorry! I didn't watch the time. I didn't mean to go off like that. Oh, Gods! I'm so sorry!" And babbling nearly incoherently, she approached the foot of the bed and began franticly freeing the scarves tied to his ankles.

Keeping his eyes shut, he grit his teeth and painfully moved his legs around. Reaching the head of the bed, she began untying one wrist and stopped, as a dark sense of foreboding washed over her.

"Um … I'm going to untie your hands, now." Pausing, she watched his eyes open slowly, and glitter dangerously in her direction. "Promise me you won't beat me with them."

"After two hours, I doubt I'll be able to move them." He spoke hoarsely, having nearly worn his voice out by shouting curses for forty-five straight minutes.

Hand hovering over the ties, she frowned. "That isn't really an answer, is it? Promise me you won't lay a violent hand on me, or …" pausing, she thought deeply, "I won't untie you until breakfast is being served."

Hearing the faint quiver in her voice, he felt some satisfaction. It would behoove her to be cautious right now. Sarcasm leaked into his tone, as he replied. "I promise I won't lay a violent hand on you. Now untie these bloody scarves!"

Releasing her breath, she quickly slipped the knot loose and moved to the other side of the bed to release his remaining hand. Loosening the last tie, she bit her lip in remorse as she watched the play of sinuous muscles of his arm and shoulder as he worked life back into them.

"I really am sorry, Sev – " With breathtaking speed, he grabbed both of her wrists and bound them tightly together with the very scarf she'd just loosened. Pulling her squirming onto his lap, he held her tightly to him, grounding out, "No." He swooped down and finding her open mouth, nipped at her lower lip. "But before this night is through, you will be."

Tossing her rudely to the bed's center, he grabbed the ends of the scarf and pulled up, securing it dead center of the headboard. Following the lines of her body roughly, he found the position raised her already full breasts to voluptuous proportions. Handling them lightly, and ignoring her stuttering apologies and pleas, he thumbed over the pert nipples and repressed a smile. How long did he have with her? How long before she evaporated into thin air? He'd had plenty of time to consider his next actions. Along with torturing her with the same cool, prowess she had shown him, he _had _planned on laying a violent hand on her. Repeatedly. Until she couldn't sit comfortably in class the next day.

But a promise was a promise. Catching sight of the slippers he'd removed earlier that night, he smirked. There, peaking from under the debris of articles he'd managed to toss around, wandless, in his fury, lie his solution. First things first, he thought, bending his head to kiss and nip a trail down her belly.

Gripping her hips firmly, he tilted her to his mouth and feasted lightly, teasingly on her.

The next hour was - for Hermione - both Heaven and Hell.


	8. Chapter 8

With patience and faint cruelty, he brought her effortlessly to the brink of passion, time after time after time, stopping to relish her whimpers and pleas for respite before lifting her again. Dropping from the foot of the bed, he bent to retrieve one of the scarves she'd used to secure his ankles. Moving agilely up to straddle her waist, he lazily informed her, "Time for a new game, _my pet,_" before using the scarf as a blindfold, and tying it securely behind her head. Untying her hands, he rolled her over onto her stomach and crossed and secured them behind her back with the scarf. Crawling backwards, he tugged her by the ankles until her toes barely touched the floor and lifting her slightly, slid a pillow beneath her belly. Blinded, bound, and bent over the foot of the bed, she fought to control her erratic breathing and unreasonable fear. She'd never felt more vulnerable in her life.

Leaning over to place his lips next to her ears, he spoke softly, in low, mesmerizing tones. "Cut off one of the five senses and the others increase in intensity. Hearing, smell, taste, touch – or in your case – feeeeeeeeeeeel." Rolling the last word out, he laughed softly and backed away from her.

He quietly walked over and picked up one of his slippers and carried it to the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he felt for her thighs, and slapping them apart, curtly informed her, "Keep them spread!"

Shutting his eyes, he trailed his hand down and pressed his thumb just inside of her, hooking his forefinger around the hood of her most sensitive spot, and began moving his hand in a circular motion, effectively massaging her simultaneously inside and out. Hearing her moaning rise in both tone and volume, he removed his hand to place it at the end of her tail bone, and raised his slipper high, bringing it down with a tremendous sounding thwack! At her quick intake of breath, he swung again. At her low moan, he smacked her three more times, waiting for a cry of distress. Puzzled, he lifted and slapped the slipper against his own palm and rolled his eyes. More sound than substance, it hardly stung.

Tossing it over his shoulder, he aimed his intense glance around the room, stopping at the bookshelf over his fireplace. Walking over, he quickly selected a narrow but heavy volume and smacked his own thigh with it. Startling himself, he smiled slowly and walked over to the bed. Reaching down to tease her a bit more, he took her swiftly to the edge before stopping and stepping back.

"This is for tying me up." And smacked her soundly with the volume, enormously pleased with her cry of surprise.

"This is for abandoning me – tied up." Another heavy smack.

"This is for playing around with something you obviously possess little knowledge of." Smack!

"This is for sneaking into my rooms to begin with." Smack!

Letting the volume slide to the ground, he entered her swiftly from behind, and whispered hoarsely, "And _this_ is for getting me so bloody horny I thought my balls would explode."

Thrusting furiously, he gripped her hips and proceeded to send them both to shattering ecstasy.

Collapsing on her, they both worked at catching shaky breaths. Rising, he grabbed his wand and mumbled a cleansing spell, before moving to unbind her hands.

The moment her hands were free, she jerked off the blindfold, and snaked her hand out to slap him sharply on the side of his face.

"You said you wouldn't lay a hand on me! You lied!" she angrily backhanded the other side of his face, before having both wrists gripped painfully by him.

Eyes lit, he asked her softly, "Did you feel my _hand _on you?"

"That's a technicality, you sneaky bastard!" she retorted, tugging fiercely at her hands.

"Who's been sneaky, my iridescent pet?" He spoke dangerously low. And moving subtley, tripped her back onto the bed. Kicking out with her feet, she caught his shin, before he tossed one leg over to contain her brief hissy fit. Moving his forehead to press against hers, he practically purred, "Would you care to feel my hand on you, now?"

Chest heaving, she answered sullenly, "No."

Leaning his head back, he scowled, with uncanny accuracy, into her eyes.

"Didn't I warn you about slapping me?" The soft, sensual tone did not match the look in his eyes.

Glaring, pointlessly, she snapped, "I'll do it again when you free my hands."

Maddened that the evening hadn't gone exactly as she'd planned, she was infuriated when he once again had the upper hand.

"And here I thought the lessons were over for the night." Pausing, he felt her shudder. "Obviously, you need one more."

Pressing her body flat against his, he rolled over onto his back and lightly slapped her bottom, softly demanding, "Turn around."

Confused by the request, she froze.

"Now!" He snapped, pushing and guiding her body with firm hands. Finding herself laying on top of him, "on the wrong ends of each other" (as her mother has once said in an attempt to describe a scene from a movie), she felt herself flush.

Instantly, his mouth was on her in a spot tender to the point of soreness.

"Nooooo! I can't. Not yet. Not now. Oooooooh …. Stop… stop that."

Strong hands reached up to grip and forcefully squeeze her bottom, as he continued torturing her with a teasing tongue. "Make yourself useful down there," he demanded, increasing the pressure of his fingers almost to the point of pain.

Grasping him, she tried to focus, but felt her eyes and mind blurring with the overwhelmingly sweet sensation his mouth brought and the dull ache from his strong grip on her rear end. Lifting his head, briefly, he asked, "Problem?" before tightening his fingers even more and flicking his tongue once again on her.

"Ohhhhhh! I can't think. I can't feel and do this at the same time! And, oooooooooooooh! Let go of me. You're hurting me!"

Squeezing his fingers painfully, he said he velvet tones, "Certainly. When you've pleased me, I'll let go." Reaching up to nip her lightly with his teeth, he added, "You should start. Soon."

On a half moan, half cry, she put her lips on him and tried to focus on pleasing him. Bit by bit she felt his hands loosen and begin to caress her throbbing skin. Feeling herself reaching the edge once more, she jerked with a sharp shock when her orgasm rip through her and she managed to keep from biting him.

Feeling her shuddering release, Severus kept his mouth on her, relentlessly bringing her to a second peak. Feeling like a drowning man swimming up for air, she kept up her attack on him, focused on driving him as mad as he was driving her. Moments later she heard him groan, deeply and explode in her mouth just as her body reached its fifth and most intense orgasm.

Rolling over to lie prone, she gasped for air and listened to his harsh breathing in amazement.

Feeling completely used, and nearly abused, she let out a ragged sigh.

"I won't slap you again."

Smiling, he reached down and pulled her up to collapse beside him, "Good." He said softly and started to drift off.

"Tonight." She added, before falling soundly asleep.

Eyes snapping open, he stifled a bark of shocked laughter, and thoughtfully, with only her on his mind, fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

As the morning sun made its slow arc across a brilliant, cloudless sky, light filtered in the small room, slanting across the lone sleeping figure and nudging her to consciousness.

Stretching, catlike, she sat up and blinked to clear her eyes, before realization hit and had her bolting from the bed, clutching her hair and wailing, "Damn-it! I overslept!"

Tossing on her clothing and grabbing her books, she ran from the room, pulling on her black robes as she went, and entered her 3rd class just as the last bell rang.

Idly watching the class enter and quiet down as soon as they noticed his presence, Snape frowned at Hermione's empty chair. Standing, he stretched the kinks out of his back, and aiming his wand at the blackboard, began speaking, the words appearing in chalk as soon as they left his lips.

Hearing a quick spattering of last minute footsteps as the bell rang, he turned in time to watch Hermione throw herself into her chair, and just as quickly lift up, shocked eyes linking with his. Frowning slightly, she lowered herself gingerly and winced. What the hell? It felt like … like his hands were still painfully gripping her. Seeing the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, she quickly lowered her own gaze, and bit her lip. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. He'd bruised her. It had to be. What else would hurt like this? Trying to find a less painful angle to sit, she found herself squirming uncomfortably during the majority of the class period. Gods, this was going to be a long day.

Making his way around the room, he approached her from behind and laying what appeared to be a friendly hand on her shoulder, pressed down heavily to force her tender bottom against the hard wooden seat. Speaking casually, he reminded her, "Tutoring tonight, Miss Granger. Please manage to be prompt this time."

Raising angry eyes to his, she managed to choke out, "Yes, sir." Failing to pull her shoulder out from beneath his heavy hand, she felt her eyes fill.

Humor leaked into his eyes as he watched her, repressing a slight smile. Snapping his eyes to Harry, he added, "You too, Potter. Eight o'clock sharp!"

Mumbling, "Yes, sir," Harry waited until Snape was out of earshot before whispering to Hermione, "Can you believe Dumbledore sent me for tutoring? What in bloody hell did I ever do to deserve this?"

Asking herself the same question, Hermione shrugged. And then blushed, knowing exactly what she had done. Memories of the previous night assailed her, and feeling her breath hitch, she realized she could no more stop her nocturnal visits than she could stop breathing. The lure – even with the threat of punishment – was too great.

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Hermione had never spent such a long and miserable day in her life. Why were all of the chairs so damn hard! In all of Hogwarts, could they not have one cushioned seat? Skipping dinner, she spent her after class hours soaking in a hot tub of water, reliving every moment of the previous night. And she thought "learning" was the highest form of entertainment.

Walking slowly towards her weekly tutoring, she wondered about the upcoming hours. With Harry in attendance, surely the Professor would avoid any untoward comments or actions. In the flesh, she still felt an almost overwhelming sense of intimidation when she was near him. She hid it, as best she could, but it was there, lurking. Curiously, as an apparition, she gained confidence and felt all barriers fall. There was most definitely a freedom in invisibility. And if she were wise, which she had not been - she thought, cringing - she would make use of the advantage. She still reacted as if he could see every move she made. He made her feel as if he could.

Approaching the Potions room, she was startled by Harry's light pat on her shoulder.

"Hey there, 'Mione! Glad to know I'm not the only one going in there." Smiling lopsidedly, he moved to open the door for her.

Smiling back, she entered ahead of him, and walked into the room, immensely pleased they were the first to arrive.

"Me, too, Harry." Giving him a baleful look, she added, "It's been torture."

Throwing their textbooks down, they both took their seats, Hermione, a bit slowly.

Frowning, Harry had to ask, "Hermione? Is there something wrong?"

Blushing, she looked away for a moment before turning back to acknowledge, "I took a bit of a spill on the dungeon floor, running to class this morning."

Looking bemused for a moment, Harry said, "I'm sorry."

Hermione gave him a rueful look. "Fell flat on my bum."

At his erupting laughter, she scowled and punched his arm. "Not funny, Harry. I'm bruised!"

"Aha ha … oh … um … " Looking appropriately chagrined, Harry gave sent her a look of sympathy, "I'm sorry. It's just the image. It's not so funny when you hurt all day. Take it from someone who's been struck by more than his share of bludgers."

Patting her shoulder, he said sotto voice, as Snape entered, "Explains your wiggling-fit in Potions class today."

Moving to lean against his desk, he eyed both students coldly. "And so the "Boy Who Lived" needs help to graduate." Pausing to stare at Harry with a slight sneer, he intoned, sarcastically, "Not so special after all, are you, Potter?"

Frowning, Harry repressed his anger. This was a lose-lose situation. Nothing he said would help. Imaging the blood running down Snapes mouth after a vicious punch, Harry relaxed internally, and politely replied, "No, sir. I'm not."

Glaring at him for his callous cruelty, Hermione snapped, "Perhaps you could begin the lesson, Professor instead of wasting our time?"

All three froze in shock. Hermiones eyes, angry and wide, challenged Snapes murderously dark look. Interjecting, Harry said loudly, "Forgive her rudeness, Professor. She's been a bit abused today."

Moving his furious gaze to Harry, he waited.

"She fell and bruised her …. um … self on the stone floor. And has been generally moody all day." Harry spoke quickly, trying to save Hermione from the wrath he saw flaring in Snape's eyes.

Moving his gaze back to Hermione, he spoke crisply, "That's no excuse for talking disrespectfully to a teacher, Miss Granger. Fifty points from Griffendor!"

Seeing her mouth open to retort, he added swiftly, "Another word out of you about this subject and I'll double the points!"

Dropping her angry eyes to the floor, she proceeded to ignore his obnoxious presence, planning in her mind a payback for his vile behavior.

Knowing full well the train of her thoughts, he chose to ignore her, and began his planned lesson.

"This evening we will go over the finer points of medicinal potions." Gathering ingredients too numerous to recall, he measured, stirred, and mumbled for nearly an hour, before pouring the contents into a tube and handing it slowly to Hermione.

"And this is … ?" she asked against her will, still incredibly annoyed with him.

"An evening potion to accelerate the healing process of bruises." Pausing to catch her amber eyes, he added, "I understand you could use it."

Walking up to the kettle, Harry looked and whistled long. "This would be an enormous help to the Quiddich team. Does it work quicker than the clinic's potions do?"

"Overnight." Snape said quietly, his eyes still holding Hermiones. Watching her features lighten in dawning comprehension, he repressed an urge to smile.

Tossing the contents back, Hermione handed him the vial and spoke with obvious relief, "Thank you, Professor."

Looking into the pot and stirring, he added in a silken voice, "Perhaps you'll learn to move with more caution."

Raising his eyes to hers, he pinned her with a level look. Helplessly caught in his hypnotic gaze, she felt heat rush to the finer points of her body. Forcing her reply through numb lips, she answered softly, "Perhaps," before turning to gather up her books.

Practically running from the room, she made it halfway to her bedroom, before Harry caught up, and stopped her. "Hermione? What's the matter?"

Turning to look at her good friend, her best friend, she could think of no answer. "Hormones, Harry. Nothing. Never mind." And turning, made it to her bedroom without another word from him.

Eyeing her quick retreat, he stood watching her thoughtfully. She almost acted as if ….nahhhh …. Not his Hermione. Not little Miss Bookworm! He'd bet good money, she'd never even been kissed, or invited a kiss. Studious to the point of asexuality, he'd never even considered her as anything but a friend. But something about her tonight … something had given him reason to pause. She seemed more … feminine. More … like one of the ever elusive and entrancing opposite camp. And walking off with trailing thoughts of his last, near miss, effort with one of their members, he promptly forgot his curiosity of his old friend.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Two-thirty a.m. found Hermione laying sleeping, fully dressed and completely knocked out on her bed. Smiling at his own cleverness in adding a sleeping hex on the potion he'd handed her, Snape stepped lightly into her room via the fireplace and glanced over at her sprawled form. Moving slowly around her room, he spent less than three minutes searching before holding up a bottle to the moonlight and squinting at its pale silver contents. Taking the full bottle with him, he returned to his room and spent the remaining hours disseminating and discovering the secret to his nocturnal visits.

"I'll be damned," he murmured to himself, impressed quite against his will. He'd only heard rumors of this potion … stories, really … and assumed it was all some adolescent fantasy. "It really does exist." And smiling slowly, he let his imagination run with the possibilities.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day was a flurry of activity as teachers began their early preparation for the year-end exams. Nerves and excitement ran high.

It wasn't until Hermione settled in for the night that she looked over to her dresser and noticed the missing potion. She felt a roaring in her ears, and her heart plummet.

He took it! She knew it. The scientist in him refused to merely enjoy the benefits of the unknown … he was determined to understand it. Remembering the ease with which she'd fallen into a long, deep sleep the previous night, she stomped her foot in irritation. _That arrogant bastard!_ Drugging her and sneaking into her room! She ought to barge into his quarters right now and call him out on it!

Storming to her door, she reached for the knob and paused, instantly recalling her last visit to his rooms – in the flesh. Wincing, she withdrew her hand and let loose a long, shaky sigh. She wasn't up for a confrontation with him. Not now.

She'd just have to make more of the potion. Feeling exhaustion sweep over her, mingled with a faint sense of dread, she decided it would not be tonight. Right now she needed a hot shower and sleep. Curling up on her bed, she thought to herself, _maybe I'll just lay here a moment then take a shower_ and, relaxing on the soft mattress, fell promptly into a deep, troubled sleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hours later, when only the sounds of crickets and night owls could be heard, Hermione started awake. Sitting up, she looked at the clock – 1:00 a.m – and realized what she'd done.

"Well, that wasn't quite my intent." Shrugging, she hopped off the bed and walked into her bathroom, stripping and dropping clothes on the floor as she went.

Standing on the far side of the room, Severus held his breath. He'd watched her sleeping for long minutes before reaching out to touch her hair and startle her awake. Listening to the shower turn on, he walked stealthily to the bathroom door, peeked around the corner, and froze. Clad only in a black scrap of lace, she was reaching behind to unhook the contraption. He watched her undress and enter the steaming shower with a curious fullness in his chest. Her curves, blurred as they were behind an opaque sheet of glass, were lovely to behold. He stood for a moment watching her wash her glorious hair and hum softly to herself before opening the shower door and stepping inside.

Feeling a large hand clamp over her mouth and a naked body press against her back, Hermione felt her lungs expand in preparation to scream, but the voice - deep, melodious, and achingly familiar – instantly calmed her. Then excited her. Then enraged her. Twisting in his arms, she prepared to rip into him for stealing her potion, but found herself looking at the shower wall.

"Unsettling, isn't it?" he murmured as, wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close and lowered his mouth to hers. Long, slow, delirious moments later, he pulled away from her and grasping the bar of soap, he began to run it over her body, delighting in seeing with his eyes what only his hands, lips, and body had come to know so well. Eyes wide open, he reacquainted himself with her slick, soapy body … so familiar … so new.

Forgetting her anger, she sighed in pleasure and keeping her eyes open, ran her hands over his body, nearly able to make out his shape as the hot water bounced off of him. Stealing the bar of soap from him, she began to run it over his skin, laughing at the sight of a sudsy invisible man. Pouring shampoo in her hand, she attacked his hair, massaging his scalp and smiling at the image.

"What are you doing?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Washing your hair." She kept her eyes innocently wide-open.

"I already washed it."

"Well, I can't see that can I? And you did step into my shower!" She managed to keep the fact that the oily-hair type of shampoo would do him wonders to herself.

Pulling him under the nozzle with her, she stood precariously on her toes to kiss him lingeringly as the water rinsed soap and suds down the drain. Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed a towel to dry off and watched her pick up bottle of fragrant oil, pour a measure into her hand and begin rubbing it over her glistening skin.

"What are you doing?" He asked, fascinated by the sheen appearing on her toned legs and the highly erotic sight of her hands running efficiently over her own body.

"Drying off." Glancing up, she found she could no longer place him.

"With oil?" His voice held mild curiosity. Taking the bottle, he poured a small amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together. "How utterly bizarre." Reaching out, he began moving his hands over her back and shoulders.

Leaning into his hands, she shut her eyes, and responded lightly, "Water and oil don't mix, so it moisturizes as it chases the water away. Multi-tasking." She added, snapping her fingers.

His hands moved slowly around her sides to tickle her stomach and inch towards her breasts, and feeling his lips nuzzle the area beneath her ear, she softly sighed and tilted her head back, and turning, locked lips with him. Deepening the kiss, he dropped one hand lower to begin a gentle but firm exploration between her thighs that swiftly left her breathless. Turning in his arms, she molded her body to his, and let her hands run freely over him, delighting in the subtle sinuous muscle and texture of skin.

Straining at each other, ache swiftly turned to need, need to rampant lust. Picking her up by the waist, he huskily ordered, "Put your legs around me," and holding her by the haunches, pressed her against the wall and slammed into her forcefully.

Clinging to him, she shut her eyes against the disorienting sensation of floating, and hanging on to him fiercely, gave back as good as he gave. Crying out as she peaked, she dug her nails into his back and moved her lips to his throat, licking and nipping until he growled deeply and shuddered.

Pressing one hand against the wall, he searched for his breath and strength as she slowly unraveled herself from him. Reaching up, she ran her hands softly over his face, missing his piercing eyes. Catching her slightly bemused expression, he murmured, "What?"

Smirking, she said, "You can't glare at me, can you."

"How do you know I'm not?" He retorted.

Turning to saunter into her bedroom, she casually picked up her wand and waved it at herself and over her shoulder in a quick cleansing spell.

Falling back onto her bed she put her head in her hands, and wondered if he'd followed her in. Calling out to the room at large, she said, "You know. I don't find you nearly as intimidating when I can't see you."

"Oh, really?" His velvet voice at her ear caused her heart to leap to her throat. Pinning her body under his, he looked at her face, devoid of makeup, and thought to himself that she didn't need the adornment. Her large amber eyes, framed by thick lashes, high cheekbones, and wide, generous mouth gave her a classic beauty he'd only recently begun to notice.

"I would think you'd find it very intimidating. Never knowing when I'll strike next." And thus saying, he rolled over on his back and swatted her behind, and pressing his lips to her neck, sucked lightly.

Pulling back from him, she frowned. "Don't you dare do that again! You left the most hideous mark on me!"

"Worse than my fingerprints on your bottom?"

Finding his face with her palm, she smacked him sharply. "And don't you ever … " Rolling her over onto her back again, he held her wrists above her head, and stared deeply – uselessly – into her eyes. Amazed, as always, by her audacity.

Asking slowly, in melodious tones, "Did you just slap me?"

The disbelief in his voice almost made her laugh. Honestly, what was the worse he could do to her?

"Yes. Do you want me to do it again?" she asked cheekily.

A long silence ensued, broken by his quietly uttered words. "Obviously, you still need to be cured of that nasty habit."

Rolling off of her, he reached down to pull up her legs by the knees, and lifting her slightly off of the mattress, brought his open palm down heavily and repeatedly on her bare bottom, forcing gasps and cries of distress from her before stopping at the tenth blow. Letting her legs drop, he rolled back over onto her, reclaimed her wrists and spoke tersely.

"One slap will earn you up to a dozen swats on your bottom. Do you still want to slap me again?"

Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she considered her answer before speaking. It stung where'd he'd struck her, but it was his whole demeanor – the constant dark threat – that caused her heart rate to triple. Did she really say he didn't intimidate her only moments before? "No." she breathed softly.

Lifting her chin, he studied her flushed face quietly. Pressing a warm kiss on her lips, he whispered, "I don't think I believe you."

Watching her eyes widen, he backed off and away from her, walking quietly around the room to find what he needed.

Flat on the bed, Hermione fought to control her breath and listened intently to his movements.

"What are you doing?" She called out shakily. This was more intimidating than she realized.

Returning shortly with the tie to her robe, he tossed it on the bed and climbing next to her told her quietly, "Lay still so I can look at you. If you find it necessary to fidget around, I'll tie you up."

Trying to lay completely still, she felt his hands start a slow exploration of her body, beginning with her head. Turning it this way and that, tracing her ear and jaw line, trailing his fingers down her throat, shoulders, arms and studying her fingers and nails. Feeling highly unnerved by his quiet and thorough scrutiny, she tried her best not to move away from him. His hands moved around her breasts and briefly tweaked her nipples, before moving to pinch and prod other areas of her anatomy. Reaching the apex of her legs, he spread them apart, squeezing them when she unconsciously moved to close them.

Moving swiftly to her head, he had her hands tied together and linked to the corner bedpost before she could think to protest. Feeling at a clear disadvantage, she bit her lip to keep from saying something she'd regret.

Severus sat back on his haunches, staring, mesmerized, at her parted thighs. She was absolutely beautiful. Fascinated, he leaned forward to carefully examine her with a dedicated thoroughness that had her squirming in embarrassment. This was worse than her annual 'touchy-feely" exam. He wasn't really touching her sexually. It was more of a detached series of pokes, prods, and pinches. Flipping her over onto her stomach, he proceeded to continue his examination until she felt every pore on her body must be burned into his memory.

Leaning back, he felt took a deep, stabilizing breath and tried to calm his raging urge to take her then and there. There was still a lesson to be learned.

Untying her hands, he roughly dragged her off of the bed and hauled her over to stand before a tall, oval shaped dressing mirror. Standing directly behind her, he began slowly running his hands over her body, simultaneously soothing her strung nerves and heightening her arousal. He pressed her back against him and listened to her rapid breathing.

Moving his lips to her neck, he whispered deeply into her ear. "I want to see you touch yourself."

At her shocked intake of breath, he smiled.

Struggling with her reply, she squeaked, "I … I … I can't!"

Enjoying her severe embarrassment, he pulled back and brought his hand down on her buttocks with a resounding smack, causing her to jump.

"Touch yourself." He demanded softly.

She could hear the smile in his voice. The sadistic bastard was enjoying humiliating her like this.

"No!" she said forcefully. Another loud and stinging smack landed, this time causing her eyes to fill.

Placing his lips on her neck, he murmured again. "Touch yourself."

Breathing hard, she bit her lip and said nothing.

Smiling broadly at her predictable stubbornness, he continued making his requests, punctuating each refusal with a heavy smack.

Eventually realizing this was a game she couldn't win, she gave in, uttering a weak, "Stop it! All right! All right!"

Stuttering, she spoke in a tremulous voice, "But, I don't know how."

Pressing his lips below her ear, he whispered commands, all the while rubbing and soothing her stinging flesh.

"Put your hands on your breasts. Feel their weight. Pinch one nipple lightly. Now, drop one hand down to your belly. Now lower. Lower."

Standing behind her he watched her reflection avidly in the mirror, feeling his arousal grow to aching proportions. Blushing furiously, she tilted her head back and shut her eyes as her fingers found her swollen and sensitive flesh.

Hearing her gasp softly, he lost control, and swinging her up into his arms, turned and reached the bed in three long strides. Bending her over the end of the bed, he moved a pillow beneath her belly, and whispered hoarsely, "Keep touching yourself."

Standing at the edge of the bed, he lifted her and entered her slowly, relishing the exquisite silky tightness and heat. Feeling her jerk and moan against him and her own hands, he fought for control, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. No. That was worse. Then all he could do was feel. Snapping his eyes, they lit on her round bottom. Placing his hands over her reddened skin, he parted her and watched their mating, growing even larger at the sight. Moving his eyes slightly up, he almost unconsciously moved one thumb and pressed it slowly but firmly into her, feeling her shock and initial fear. Pumping slowly, he continued to press his thumb forward, adding his other thumb until both were pressed fully into her, as grasping her cheeks tightly, he began to slam into her fiercely. He heard her cry out sharply, as her muscles involuntarily tightened convulsively around him, and hoarsely growled out his own release.

Lying, spent and stunned, Hermione felt him slowly remove his thumbs and himself from her before collapsing next to her on the bed. The shock she'd felt when his thumb had entered her was nothing to the shock she felt when she realized she liked it. Her orgasm had ripped through her with an intensity that astounded her. Feeling her heart rate begin to normalize, she felt a sense of shame wash over her. She'd begun to realize that she actually liked to goad him into spanking her. And now this? What kind of pervert was she?

Lying next to her, feeling his heart rate return to normal, he struggled with his conscience. He was turning into some kind of sex-fiend. And now he knew he'd shocked her beyond belief. What kind of a pervert was he?

Both kept to their thoughts, but felt something should be said.

Rolling over on her side, Hermione made the first move. Placing one hand out to rest on his chest, she said quietly, "Severus."

Turning his head to her, he looked into her eyes and saw her flushed features. Frowning, he started to speak, when a cold breeze blew over him and he instantly disappeared from her side.

"Ahhhhhh!" Duel groans of annoyance rose from rooms far apart at Hogwarts as the rest of the castle slept.


	11. Chapter 11

Friday morning crept inevitably upon Hermione, who'd spent a restless four hours, alternately reliving the thrilling memories of the evening and cringing at her own wanton reaction. What must he think of her? 

Dressing slowly, she moved sluggishly through her morning, irrationally dreading the looming third period.

Entering the room, she quickly took her seat and kept her eyes focused on her desk. Twenty minutes into the class she realized that it didn't help. The seductive cadence of his baritone voice alone aroused her. Raising her eyes briefly, she was immediately caught in his dark, penetrating gaze, and sat immobilized, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

It took enormous willpower to keep from staring at her the moment she'd entered the room, but that was something he had in abundance. Correction, usually had. Internally cringing, he realized where her nocturnal visits and now his were concerned, all bets were off. He couldn't get enough of her. He couldn't stop thinking of her. He spent the remainder of the early morning lying in his bed wondering if he'd pushed her too far. If he'd finally managed to frighten her. Would she tell him to stop coming? Would she stop sneaking into his room to bring his dreams to life? He felt that, where she was concerned, he was losing control; of his libido, his soul, his heart. The thought instantly staggered him, and he looked sharply at her as she raised her head.

The room hushed as students became aware of the long, heated look passing between the two. Jerking his head away, Severus spun and stalked around his desk. Immediately dropping her gaze, Hermione focused on her textbook. 

"Whoa, Hermione." Harry whispered. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," she mumbled.

Eyeing her curiously, he suddenly remembered her odd behavior at the end of their tutoring the other night. Turning narrowed eyes to Snape, he wondered.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione spent the early evening gathering and brewing another batch of potion. Still shaken by the intense look she'd received in class, she decided that, as exhilarating as the previous night had been, she preferred the feeling of control invisibility gave her. She preferred he not see her blush. She felt too raw. Too exposed.

The moment the potion was done, she took a measure and sat on her bed to wait for its effects. Eleven-thirty … she may still catch him asleep and unsuspecting. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Severus lay on his bed, studying the ceiling, deeply contemplating his astounding self-revelation. And seriously considering ending their little games. Quite frankly, he was shaken. He thought of all the reasons it should end. She was too young. Even if she had been a few years older … the difference in the ages was too great. He had no room in his life for this type of distraction. She had no clue as to the debts of his depravity, but she would before long. She'd eventually leave him – once her infatuation wore off, and he had no doubt that it would. He didn't think he could watch her leave. He didn't think he could let her.

Closing his eyes, he came to a decision and gritted his teeth against the feelings it unearthed.

Appearing in his room, Hermione saw his sleeping form and smiled softly. Stepping lightly to the bed, she leaned over to press her lips on his, and nearly jumped when his eyes snapped open.

Catching her arms, he pulled her on top of him and kissed her passionately, feeling her melt in his embrace. Groaning, he pushed her over to the side and sat up in bed, quietly struggling with the words he knew he needed to say.

"I see you brewed additional potion." He started off. "I wish you hadn't."

"You'd rather come to me? Ah … so the power of the potion's gotten to you, too." She ran a teasing hand over his chest. "Too bad, so sad." She said before leaning to kiss him.

Immediately pressing her away from him, he frowned. "I wasn't planning on coming to you tonight."

At her long silence, he closed his eyes momentarily, before continuing in a deepened voice. "I think it's time we stopped this."

Shocked, she sat back on her haunches and stared at him, heart pounding. "Now, you want to stop this? NOW? You want to stop this? It's a little late, don't you think?"

Hearing the unaccustomed sarcasm in her voice, he nearly winced. "No. Now is the perfect time."

"Would you care to explain that?"

Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he added, "Hermione, there are things you don't know about me, about my past, about my needs."

Stopping him with a finger on his lips, she spoke softly, "I think I know enough. And I'll decide what I want." 

Snatching her wrist, he snapped, "Every time I touch you I feel as if I'm corrupting you."

"Oh, please." Taking a swipe at his shoulder with her free hand, she retorted, "You haven't scared me off yet, have you?"

Reaching up, he found and gripped her chin, and stared unerringly into her eyes. In a voice that sent shivers over her, he slowly murmured, "Maybe I need to."

Raising her chin, she spoke huskily, "Maybe I want you to try."

Feeling the blood rush from his head directly to his groin area, he shut his eyes and fought for control. When she reached over and ran a moist tongue over his lips, he lost it. 

Gripping the back of her head, he returned her kiss deeply, feeling both of their heartbeats rapidly increase. Tugging her hand, he stood from the bed, and turning, bent to toss her over his shoulder and carry her around the room as his eyes searched.

Dizzy and almost giddy with excitement, Hermione hung upside down over his back.

Finding a small stool, Severus kicked it over to the edge of the bed. Pulling a long scarf from his dresser, he set her on the stool, facing the bed, and pulled her hands forward to bind her wrists securely. Grasping his wand, he pointed it from the scarf to the ceiling and her hands were immediately raised above her head, causing her to stand on her toes on the stool.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he captured her between his knees and hungrily attacked one perfect breast with his mouth, moving his hand possessively over her body. Trailing one hand between her thighs, he caressed her gently as her breath hitched into a soft pant. He slid off the end of the bed to fall to his knees directly in front of her. 

Strong hands firmly grasped her bottom, as he latched onto her with a hot, moist mouth, immediately causing her knees to buckle. Drawing both hands away, he brought them back in a heavy smack, listening to her sharp intake of breath and exhaled low moan.

In a husky whisper, she demanded, "Do it again."

Chuckling softly into her, he continued his frontal assault with relish, while relentlessly smacking her rounded bottom sharply and nearly rhythmically. At her high-pitched cry of release, he clutched her enticingly twitching body close to him and reveled in the feeling of power it gave him to bring her so quickly and easily to her peak. 

Moving to his dresser, he swiftly returned with a small jar. Standing directly behind her, he spoke deeply, "This is the scary part." Opening the jar, he rubbed a small amount of the potion around her rear entry, feeling her stiffen in surprise.

Pressing himself firmly against her opening, he spoke softly, "That will help numb you a little." Placing warm lips on her neck, he said, "Press yourself back onto me." And reaching around to cup her from the front, placed two fingers inside of her, and gently rotated his palm against her sensitized flesh.

Moving slowly back, she held her breath as he pressed slowing into her, stretching her as he gained entrance. Keeping his hand pressed directly in front of her, she had only one way to move. Back. Taking it slowly, she felt him reaching deeper into her and shuddered at the feeling of fullness. Feeling literally impaled, she marveled at his control as he stood absolutely still, waiting for her to get used to him. 

Licking and nipping her lightly on the neck, he felt her shudder, cry out and stiffen, pulsing tightly around him. Groaning loudly, he bit her shoulder and began moving fiercely in shallow, rapid thrusts, lifting her slightly off of her toes.

She felt another orgasm build before the last had ended and let out a passionate cry as it rolled over her with mind-boggling intensity. 

Feeling helpless, controlled and more alive than she'd ever been, Hermione let her head fall back on Severus's shoulder and rode with him to his own shattering release, shuddering once again as her body rocketed with him.

Breathing harshly, he slowly moved away from her and grasping his wand, released her ties, catching her when she collapsed in his arms. Murmuring a quick cleansing spell, he tossed the wand and placed her gently on the bed, moving to lay beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, closing his eyes.

Still fighting for a stable breath, Hermione reveled in the feeling of his arms possessively holding her, and spoke shakily, "You didn't scare me."


	12. Chapter 12

Sitting in class the following day, Hermione found herself eyeing her professor dreamily, remembering the delightful things they'd done to each other and imagining what they'd yet to discover.

Trying desperately to ignore her disconcerting stare, Snape finally, in exasperation, subtly snapped his wand in her direction before turning to explain, in simpler terms, a potions' shortcut each student should by now have memorized.

At the faint flash in her notebook, Hermione glanced down and raised her brows at the words appearing before her.

"Stop staring at me with those wicked thoughts so clearly in your eyes before I give you a good reason for the look."

Biting her lip against the urge to laugh out loud (and feeling faintly smug that she'd unnerved him) she felt a corresponding thrill at his threat. What could he do to her – here in the midst of a roomful of students?

Sparing her a brief glance, he felt his heart trip at the site of her wanton stare and small, daring smile. Feeling his blood thicken in his veins, he whirled and stalked to sit behind his desk, snapping out reading assignments of several chapter reviews, and ignoring – for a change - the responding muffled groans.

Picking up a feathered quill, he mumbled a brief but complex spell, and lay it to paper. As each sentence ended, it would fade from the paper, and he would write another.

Ignoring the class assignment, Hermione watched him closely, trying to decipher his movements and their meaning. She watched as his lips moved quietly to himself as he chose a feathered pen, then frowned in concentration as he began to write.

The moment his pen lifted from the paper, she smothered a gasp at the sensation of a stinging slap on her bottom, followed by another and other. His pen lifted, and she felt the added sensation of his thigh pressed between her legs, then the shock of his lips on her neck.

Fighting to keep her mouth closed, she watched his scribbling frantically, as another hand made a slow caressing trip up the side of her body to her breast and his hot, moist mouth closed over her own. Each new feeling became a new note in the chorus. Realizing he was writing a compilation of each time he had touched her, forcing her to feel everything at once, she fought frantically to control her reaction. Recalling his next touch, he looked up in time to catch her silent plea. Eyes crinkling, he slightly shook his head, and watched her eyes shut in relief, then fly open wide as she felt his hand touching her intimately. Another scratch of the pen, and she felt him inside her as well, swelling and moving with silky heat and friction.

When the sensation of his warm wet mouth joined the rest, she snatched open and hid behind her large textbook as wave after wave of pleasure rocked her system.

Desperately attempting to keep what she was feeling to herself, and afraid she was going to slither out of her chair into a boneless mass, she lurched to her feet and ran out of the classroom. Hiding in the last stall of the girls bathroom, she grabbed on to the top of the partition as her body was assaulted by multiple sensations and rolling orgasms.

Watching her quick departure, Severus sat for a moment, pen posed. Now, this was a quandary. He hadn't expected her to leave. Once the words left the paper, their actions stayed with the recipient, until the writer chose to end the spell. But writer and subject had to be in sight of each other. If he left the room to go after her, too many curious eyes would notice. Damn!

Casting a quick glance at the large clock on the wall, he sighed inwardly. Twenty more minutes! Thinking of the combination of actions he'd written down, he winced. _'These are just memories. It's not like it's really happening to her.' _ But to her, they would be very real. At least until the spell ended.

Frustrated, he aimed his brooding, annoyed expression around the classroom, causing more than one student to shrink into themselves in an effort to disappear.

x

The bell signaling the end of the class echoed dimly in Hermione's consciousness. Lying flat on her back on the floor of the bathroom stall, she was no more aware of her surroundings than of the throaty cries and moans that escaped her lips. Her body had become her whole world. His hands, his lips, his body .., her sole focus. She would have thought she'd be numb by now, but each touch, each caress, felt exciting and new. Each stinging slap, tingled sharply. Each powerful thrust, drove her over an edge she had yet to tire of.

And when she heard her voice called out quietly, and strong arms lift and cradle her closely, she felt bereft as the spell was ended.

"I'm so sorry, my pet." He nuzzled her neck with his lips. "I didn't expect you to leave."

Tilting his head back to look into her eyes, he asked softly, "Are you all right?"

Open mouthed, with a shocked look in her eyes, she whispered, "I'm impressed."

His startled laugh was abruptly ended by her fierce, passionate kiss.

He jumped and set her down as chattering female voices entered the room.

Mouthing the words, 'Until tonight,' he vanished into thin air, leaving Hermione panting, shocked and envious.

The sneaky son of a bitch knew how to apparate on Hogwarts grounds!


	13. Chapter 13

And so the days went, busy for both. By day, teachers prepared for year-end, students frantically crammed for exams. The wee hours of the morning were their hiatus, they're small private sensual island, and though both avoided talking about it, they hungrily looked forward to the end of the school year and the time they could be truly flesh to flesh.

At first, they battled over who would appear where, until the inevitable night both appeared simultaneously in the others rooms and spent a lonely and frustrating two hours apart. Severus spent the time snooping through her clothing, pressing silky knickers to his face, sniffing various perfumes and lotions, puzzling himself to no end over the array of cosmetics.

Hermione, on the other hand, short-sheeted his bed, slightly annoyed that she wouldn't be here to see him try to climb in – before discovering his bookcase full of classic wizard literature. She received her payback the following night, however, via a quick trip over his knee.

By unspoken agreement, they stayed away from each other the evenings before N.E.W.T. exams. Lack of sleep from studying was one thing. Lack of sleep from playing "doctor" was quite another.

They're last evening prior to graduation was spent completely wearing each other out. Resting beside each other, they made plans for the following night, after the graduation party – their first "real" time together. Hermione had turned 18 the week before, and celebrated by eating an ice cream sundae off of a tied up and mildly, irritated man.

Breathing heavily after their evening aerobics, Hermione ran her nails lightly over his chest and uttered, "You are amazing."

"Maybe I'm just trying to make you forget anyone who came before me." Tapping her lightly on the nose, he added, "Although, I think I may have something up on your average fumbling, teenage boy."

Smiling uncertainly, Hermione quickly dipped her head and rested it on his shoulder.

"So … are you going to tell me?" His voice, so seductive, so thrilling, gave her goose bumps.

"Tell you what?"

""How I compare?" he asked her, half joking.

"Oh!" Waving a hand at him, she replied vaguely, "Stop being silly."

Raising up on his arm, he looked down on her lovely face, noticing the rising color in her cheeks.

"Am I." He murmured, speculatively.

Leaning over, he kissed her softly, skimming a hand over her breast. Lightly tweaking one nipple, he caught her quick intake of breath in his mouth.

Deepening his kiss, he moved his hand lower inch by inch. "Did they garner this type of response from you?" and finding her, caressed her until her breathing came in short pants.

"Did they, my pet?"

Keeping up his sensual assault, he moved his lips to her neck and nipped her lightly with his teeth, delighting in her quick gasp.

"Um ….ohhhhhh …um," Moaning, she had difficulty thinking of an answer.

Moving warm lips to her ear, he growled softly, "Did they?" as his long fingers delved deeper and he increased the pressure of his hand.

Nearly keening with pleasure, she rose up swiftly and reached her peak, crying out unintentionally, "There was no…one…else."

Coming slowly back to her senses, she realized he'd pulled away from her.

Breathing deeply, despite the rushing in his ears, he stared at her in shock and mild horror.

In a voice she hardly recognized, he asked, "What did you say?"

Trepidation grew, as she bit her lip and searched for an answer.

Grasping her chin, he turned her face to him, and glared uselessly into her eyes. Pressing his nose directly up to hers, he repeated his question softly and slowly. "What did you just say to me?"

Feeling trapped, she whispered shakily, "There was no one else."

The long silence was punctuated by his harsh breathing as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers.

"That first night, you came to me a virgin? I don't remember. How can I not remember?" He asked in a hoarse whisper.

Sighing, she reluctantly told him, "You weren't exactly awake." And proceeded to describe their first evening together.

Sitting up in bed, he hung his head in his hands when she finished, and fought for control of his rising anger.

Placing a tentative hand on his back, Hermione tried to speak when he turned to her.

"I can't even apologize. Technically, you raped me. You rotten child!" Gripping her painfully by the shoulders, he shook her. "How could you do that? Without asking me! Without my permission! Without any kind of consideration!"

"I tried asking! You pushed me away!" she cried.

Shoving her away from him in disgust, he added, "I didn't ask for your virginity. You left me no choice."

"You wouldn't come to me willingly. What was I suppose to do." She spoke in desperation.

"Why? Why, Hermione? Why me?" He scowled fiercely, watching every muscle on her face.

"Because I loved you." And shouting the words, she stunned herself with the truth. "Because I love you."

Moving slowly to the door, he stated flatly, "You honestly have no idea how serious this is, do you?" Pausing, he added in threatening tones, "If you dare come to me tomorrow night, it will be a night you'll never forget."


	14. Chapter 14

Graduation day was long, exciting, emotional, and exhausting. Leaving the party early after tearful farewells to her friends, and earnest promises to keep in touch, Hermione walked slowly down the long hall to his room, and pausing to take a deep breath, knocked on the door.

Opening the door, he stared at her, heavy lidded, for a long moment before reaching out and drawing her in.

Encircling her in his arms, he held her tightly, kissing her long and deeply. Pulling back and keeping his eyes on her, he softly told her to repeat after him. Speaking in Latin, he held her face gently, looking deeply into her eyes. Without hearing her words, she repeated them back, mesmerized as always by his dark gaze, and thrilled to be held by him while they could actually see each other.

As his words faded away, all of the candles in the room lit up brightly and crackled.

Albus Dumbledore stepped silently from the corner of the room.

"Congratulations." Walking over to pick up Hermione's wrist, he kissed the back of her hand and added in his gravelly voice, "From this point forward, your shenanigans will be legal."

Blushing brightly, she stuttered, "What do you mean? I've been eighteen for nearly a week now."

Giving her a serious look, he spoke with a detached calm, "Did you really think there would be no consequences for your actions, my dear?"

He walked to the door, and opening it, turned to smile kindly at her bemused expression. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Snape." And watching her jaw drop, left with an amused twinkle in his eye.

Turning, she met Severus's hard stare.

"You …. You … you … sneaky son of a …" she stuttered, drawing back a hand to slap him.

Catching her wrist, he snatched and held both of her hands behind her back.

"Tsk. Tsk. Is that the way for a new bride to greet her husband?"

"You bastard! How could you do that? Without asking me! Without my permission! Without any kind of consideration!" Raising her voice with each word, she was quieted abruptly by his hard kiss.

"I showed you the same consideration you showed me our first night together." Narrowing his eyes at her, he added, "It only seemed fair."

Glaring futilely at him, she struggled for a few moments before giving up.

"You didn't have to lower yourself to marry me, you moron!" she snapped.

Raising his brows, "Moron?" Tilting his head down, he pressed his nose to hers, and added succinctly, "Snapes do not take virgin blood without the benefit of marriage."

At her look of disbelief, he added wryly, "We are a dying breed. And I mean that, literally." Raising his head to look past her, he stated flatly, "It's past time I took a wife and continued my line."

At her angry scowl, he moved his hands to her shoulders and shook her briefly. "And I DID NOT LOWER MYSELF TO MARRY YOU!" he snapped, pinning her with the look that left most of his pupils boneless, until she dropped her gaze to the floor.

Listening to her harsh breathing for a few moments, he waited for the question he knew was coming.

Turning her large filled eyes up to him, she demanded in a choked voice, "Do you even love me?"

Lifting her chin with long fingers, he looked steadily into her eyes and answered.

"Yes."

Watching the color rush to her cheeks, he asked, "Do you love me?"

Caught in his dark, penetrating gaze, lulled by his mesmerizing voice, she whispered, "Yes," and felt something click into place.

Eyes locked, they pressed tightly together and kissed passionately and at great length.

Eventually, pulling back from her, he smiled softly. "Well, then, Madam, how would you like to begin celebrating your wedding night? Bubble Bath? Champagne? Massage?"

Tilting her head, she eyed him thoughtfully for a moment before twitching her lips. Snaking out a quick hand, she slapped him sharply on his left cheek, and stood back, wide-eyed, to watch her handprint appear.

Eyes glittering dangerously, he nodded slowly and spoke in deep, velvet tones, "As you wish," before tossing his trembling bride over his shoulder and striding purposefully toward the bed.

And the rest, dear reader, you can well imagine.

For those of you who expressed an interest in a more detailed wedding night, read on.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Severus reached into his robes and withdrew his wand. Frowning at the throbbing sting of her hand, he muttered a short routing spell and cracked his wand smartly across her poised backside on his left shoulder, causing her robes to dissolve and reappear folded on a nearby footstool. Another sharp stroke and her dress dissolved, leaving her dangling upside down in lacy undergarments. The third stroke forced a cry from her and left its mark on her now nude form.

Tossing her onto the bed, he stared at her silently for a moment before removing his heavy robes. Unbuttoning the long sleeves of his crisp white shirt, he began rolling them up to his elbows, riveting her with his piercing gaze.

Hermione watched him with large and then larger eyes, feeling the faint tug of lust in her belly that she'd once thought was fear.

Turning his wand lazily in the air, he summoned a straight back chair and immediately sat down, never breaking eye contact with her.

"Come here." The words were spoken low and soft, but his eyes remained unreadable.

Slowly climbing off the bed, Hermione approached him carefully. Standing fully nude in front of him, she shivered briefly. Her gaze moved over his broad shoulders and long, lean form, then raised to the redness of his cheek. Her faint twinge of regret lasted briefly.

Tugging her to his side, he pulled her across his lap and held her waist firmly, eyeing the red line across rounded bottom thoughtfully. Raising his right hand high, he brought it down sharply and swiftly to the expected count of twelve, smirking lightly at her gasps and squeals.

When she made a move to get up, his strong hold kept her firmly in place. With a velvet purr, he spoke. "I think, perhaps, given the circumstances, the punishment should be a bit harsher."

"Circumstances?" Fighting to keep the nerves out of her voice, she couldn't stop the shiver.

"The unprovoked, undeserved, unearned slap you surprised me with just a few moments ago. And on our wedding night." Making a tsking sound, he lightly skimmed his fingers over her stinging bottom, before tracing one finger down her center, and moving it in lazy exploration.

When she felt his thumb reach and find her g-spot and his long fingers dance over her most sensitive area, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven.

"So I think, perhaps, double the usual payback."

Squirming deliriously over his lap, she barely gave notice to his softly spoken words, until a stinging slap from his other hand landed on her bottom, causing her to emit a half-moan, half-cry. It wasn't until the second swat that she realized he meant to keep pleasuring and punishing her simultaneously. The dept of his sensual wickedness shocked and delighted her. She lasted to the count of eight. Feeling her stiffen and cry out, he stilled his hands and waited patiently.

Working to keep the smile out of his voice, he said blandly, "You do realize I'll have to start over. It hardly counts as a punishment if you're going to enjoy it."

"What?" The huskiness of her voice did wild things to his body.

Teasing her gently with talented fingers, he felt her jerk up and brought his other hand down once more upon her blushing bottom, saying in a flat voice, "One."

"Oh!" Hermione fought the feelings that rose the moment he touched her.

"Two."

His voice. Lord, his voice alone could do this to her, but his fingers, they were pure magic.

"Three."

Raising up quicker this time, she peaked sharply, and felt her body floating for long moments before his fingers began their insidious dance again.

"One."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. No … Severus, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaase."

"Two."

"Noooooooooo! Ohhhhh! Ooooooooh! Stooooop!"

Speaking matter-of-factly, he stated, "As my wife, you're going to need to learn self-control. This seems like the perfect learning opportunity." He punctuated his statement with another stinging swat. "Three."

Wiggling to avoid his hand only made what he was doing with his other hand more intense.

"Four."

Feeling as if her bottom was in flames, she nonetheless found herself building to another peak and tried desperately – in her passion-fogged mind – to find a way to tamp it down.

"Five."

Stiffening up her arms and legs, she tried bracing them on the floor in an effort to freeze the helpless jerking of her body.

"Six."

But there was no escaping the effect his teasing fingers had on her. And as she spiraled up again …

"Seven."

… she fought to keep the knowledge from him.

"Eight."

As intense feelings rolled over her in waves, she noticed the sharp slaps seemed muted, almost overwhelmed by her orgasm.

"Nine."

His fingers kept up their dance, taking her up to an even higher peak as her arms and legs quivered with the effort to keep still.

"Ten."

"Eleven."

She felt as if she would never come down. The intensity of sensations was mind-boggling.

"Twelve."

A sobbing moan escaped her as the last slap fell and both of his hands fell away. Relaxing her arms and legs, she collapsed, exhausted, over his lap.

Running a light hand over her back, he smiled to himself. He'd known each moment she'd climaxed, felt her quivering from within. Lifting and turning her in his arms, he placed her on her feet in front of him, closely watching her lazy, sated eyes grow round as the last pleasurable spasms faded and left her aware of her acutely stinging bottom.

Reaching back to rub her heated skin, she could only gaze mutely at him for a long moment, drawn into the pools of mystery in his darkly intense stare, weakened at the sight of his broad shouldered, confident stance. Strength and passion rolled off of him in raging waves, and the surge of lust that roared through her knew no bounds.

Leaping at him, she latched her body as closely to his as humanly possible, attacking his mouth with a fierceness that stunned him. And he thought he'd gone too far. Bending her back, he returned her kiss passionately, pulling her warm, naked body tightly against his, and breathing her heightened scent in with faint delirium.

Feeling his unquestionable desire for her pressing against her belly, Hermione drew back and began unbuttoning his shirt with deft, excited fingers, keeping her tongue meshed with his.

Moving her backwards, without breaking the contact of their lips, he helped her rid himself of all garments, and fell with her onto the large bed. Twisting and forcing him onto his back, she slid her body silkily over his, jumping when his hands took hold of her tender rear.

"Sorry" he mumbled between kisses, and moved his hands up to curve around to her breasts, thumbs flicking the taut peaks.

Moving her lips to his neck, she began a slow descent that caused the blood to soar through his veins. Gazing into his eyes as she took him into her mouth, she watched every intimate expression that flitted across his face with keen pleasure, loving her ability to turn someone so strong helpless in a matter of minutes.

Groaning deeply, he tugged her away and ground out. "This night will be over before it begins if you don't stop that."

Laughing, she twisted around and muffled his complaints, resuming her ingenuous endeavors to his ardent delight. He attempted to ignore what she was doing to his body by focusing on her pleasure. He quickly discovered the absurdity of the attempt, and pulled her away from him once again.

"Wimp." She taunted, and then giggled when he smoothly flipped their positions. Staring up at the lovely, dangling image before her, she fondled him lightly with fascination, paying close attention to his change in breathing patterns in response to various stimuli. Recalling a certain area of text in the book she'd read on the subject, she led him inexorably closer, before pausing momentarily to find the nerve. Resuming her warm, moist caress, she quickly licked her middle finger and plunged it inside him, ignoring his jolting surprise. Finding his prostate, she slowly pressed down on the soft, rounded area, increasing attention with her mouth, until she felt him stiffen and cry out loudly as he rocketed.

Eyes rolled into his head, Severus felt as if his orgasm had ripped through his body and exploded out of the top of his head. Lost in the exquisite sensation, he managed to roll onto his back and grasp her to him as his body jerked rhythmically. Holding his pulsing shaft delicately, she continued to run her hand up and down until his movements slowed and his breathing returned to normal.

Eyes shut, he groaned deeply, "What in the hell did you just do to me?"

Grinning, she turned and slithered up his sweat-soaked body to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Just something I read about in a book."

Opening one eye, he raked it up and down her face, and grasped her tightly to him. Placing a warm, slow kiss on her neck, he murmured, "Never stop reading."

Barely controlling a smug smile, she replied, "Don't worry. I won't."

Hugging her fiercely to him, Severus could only wonder at the curious workings of fate. He always knew life wasn't fare. Kismet, Karma, what have you, nothing really balanced out. Yet here he was with the most wonderful creature on earth. And she loved him. Remarkable. Incredible. Nearly inconceivable. One thing he knew for sure. With Hermione for his mate, life would never be boring.

Snuggling against him, she added in a husky whisper, "Sorry to cut the evening short, but I had to try that."

Lifting her chin, he looked deep into her lovely amber eyes and smiled wickedly as they widened in surprise. "I don't think we're quite through, yet."


End file.
